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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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GIFT  OF 

Harrison  Wright 


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A  Fountain  Sealed. 


Uniform  •with  this  Volume 

THE  MASTER  CRAFTSMAN 

and 

THE  CITY  OF  REFUGE 

By  Sir  Walter  Besant 


f^ 


SIR    GEORliE    LED    ME    HV    THE    HAND." Page    l6j. 


7^  <5C7i 


^ 


A  FOUNTAIN  SEALED 


a  Bovel 


BY 

SIR  WALTER  BESANT 

AUTHOR  OF 

*^The  Master  Craftsman/'   '^  The  City  of  Refuge/' '' AU  Sorts  and 

Conditions  of  Men/*  ^  Armorel  of  Lyonesse/'  etc. 


Ittevo  13orFj  an^  Xon6on 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyfight,  1897 
By  Sir  Walter  Besant 


CONTENTS. 


Prologue :— Her  Majesty's  Own  "Words, 

J,  On  the  River  Darenth, 

H.  A  Miracle, 

IIL  The  Wicked  World, 

rV.  The  First  Meeting. 

V.  The  Next  Day, 

VI.  ''My  Brother,  Sir  George,^ 

VII.  "  The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman, 

Vni.  The  Christening  of  a  Convert, 

IX.  King's  Favourites, 

X.  Robert  Storey, 

XI.  The  Masquerade, 

XII,  Molly  and  the  Corporal, 

XIII.  A  River  Party, 

XrV.  The  Guard  of  Honour, 

XV.  The  Palace  and  the  Court, 

XVI.  **  Invest  it  in  my  Business,'* 

XVn.  "  Let  him  Tell  me  Himself," 

XVIII.  My  Brother  Joseph, 

XIX.  The  '*  Tower  of  Brill," 

XX.  *'  There  shall  be  no  Obstacle," 

XXI.  To  Dress  the  Bride, 

XXII.  God  Save  the  King! 

XXIII.  Conclusion, 


J 
24 
36 
47 
58 
72 
84 
96 

n7 

J23 
J32 
H5 
t68 
J8J 
J94 
203 
2J2 
223 
233 
244 
264 
276 
283 
294 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Sir  George  led  me  by  the  hand,"  .        _        _         Frontispiece 

"Madam,  I  drink  the  health  of  that  person,"            -        -  22 

"While  my  cousin  played  I  sat  beside  her,"        -         -        -  55 

"So  I  stirred,  laughing,"            ______  54 

"  Many  times  as  we  walked  w^ith  them,  people  gazed  upon 

us  curiously,"        --------  loi 

"So  he  handed  us  into  the  cabin,"           _        -        -        -  183 

"I  could  protect  them  against  fifty,"            -        -        -        -  251 

"  George  stood  silent,  hushed,  awed,  his  brother  kneeling 

before  him,"     ---.-...  291 


A  FOUNTAIN  SEALED. 

PROLOGUE. 

Her  Majesty's  Own  Words* 

At  noon,  by  the  shadow  of  my  sundial  in  the  middle 
of  the  grass ;  by  the  striking  of  the  clock  in  the  tower 
of  Hackney  Church ;  by  the  disappearance  of  the  sha- 
dows from  the  side  walls  of  my  garden,  which  lie 
exactly  north  and  south ;  I  was  taking  the  air  upon 
the  lawn.  It  was,  I  remember,  Saturday  morning, 
September  i6th,  in  the  year  of  grace  1780.  The  day, 
though  the  season  was  already  advanced  into  autumn, 
was  fair  and  warm  ;  the  orchard  was  still  pleasing  to 
the  eye,  those  apples  not  yet  gathered  showing  like 
balls  of  vermilion  and  gold  :  the  summer  flowers  were 
nearly  over,  yet  there  were  still  some ;  the  sweet  peas, 
which  had  been  that  year  more  than  commonly  luxu- 
riant, were  now  piled  in  a  heap  of  brown  seed-pods, 
brown  leaves,  and  grey  stalks,  yet  there  were  blossoms 
still  among  them  :  there  were  late  roses  still  in  bloom  ; 
the  jessamine  on  the  wall  was  still  dotted  with  a  few 
white  sweet-smelling  blossoms — it  is  a  scent  which 
makes  the  senses  reel  and  the  heart  beat — it  recalls  old 
memories.     Wherefore  I,  who  now  for  twenty  years 


2  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

live  wholly  in  the  past,  love  that  blossom.  There  were 
hollyhocks,  the  flowers  finished,  all  but  one  or  two  on 
the  very  top  of  their  drooping  heads  ;  sunflowers  gone 
to  seed  weighing  down  the  thick  stalk  ;  trailing  nas- 
turtium ;  flaunting  marigolds,  which  refuse  to  believe 
that  winter  is  nigh ;  mignonette  lying  all  across  the 
path,  its  stalks  breaking  at  a  touch,  its  little  delicate 
flow'rets  without  scent  yet  still  beautiful.  The  soft  air 
breathed  a  pleasing  fragrance  ;  there  was  no  breeze. 
Such  consolations*  of  lingering  flowers  and  perfumed 
air  doth  the  autumn  offer  to  those  who  are  grow- 
ing old  and  have  retired  from  the  world.  With  that 
strange  pride  of  man,  which  allows  him  to  regard  na- 
ture as  reflecting  his  own  moods,  as  if  the  round  earth, 
and  all  that  therein  is,  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  watch 
his  thoughts  and  to  act  in  sympathy  with  them,  I 
chose  to  take  this  warm,  sweet  autumn  morning  as 
granted  especially  to  myself,  and  so  sat  on  the  garden 
bench,  or  strolled  across  the  lawn,  and  along  the 
walks,  with  a  mind  contented  and  grateful.  The 
humble-bee  who  rolled  heavily  about  like  some  great 
river  barge  on  the  flowing  tide,  reeling  from  flower 
to  flower,  covered  all  over  with  white  dust,  boomed 
its  monotonous  song  for  me:  the  honey-bee  buzzed 
louder — a  note  of  accompaniment  and  solace — for  me  : 
the  yellow  wasp  fluttered  about  among  the  peaches — 
for  me  to  see  his  beauty :  a  thrush  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 
singing,  late  as  it  was  in  the  year — for  me.  What 
they  said,  or  sang,  I  know  not,  but  they  filled  my 
mind  with  peace  and  such  happiness — that  of  resigna- 
tion— as  can  befall  a  woman  such  as  I  am — lonely — 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  Words.  3 

bereaved — with  no  change  before  me — and  with  such 
a  past  as  mine  to  look  back  upon. 

It  was  my  own  garden,  lying  at  the  back  of  my  own 
house :  a  large  and  richly  furnished  garden  behind 
the  house  of  a  gentlewoman.  At  the  end  of  the  gar- 
den is  a  wicket-gate  which  I  sometimes  open  in  order 
to  gaze  across  the  broad  valley  of  the  Lea.  From  the 
elevation  on  which  my  house  stands  I  can  see  below 
me  the  whole  expanse  of  low  meadows  called  the 
Hackney  Flats,  intersected  with  ditches  here  and 
there.  This  morning  a  light  mist  rolled  over  them — 
not  the  cold  marshy  exhalation  which  all  through  win- 
ter lies  upon  them  by  day  and  night,  but  a  gentle 
vaporous  veil  through  which  I  could  discern  the  river 
winding  in  the  midst  ;  and  beyond  the  river  more 
flats ;  and  beyond  the  flats  the  low  green  hills  of 
Essex,  looking  upon  which,  on  such  a  day  as  this, 
with  the  sunshine  lying  on  them,  the  heart  goes  up  to 
heaven,  and  the  distant  hills  remind  one  of  the  ever- 
lasting rest  to  come  when  all  tears  shall  be  w^'ped 
away  and  the  memory  of  former  sorrows  will  only 
show  as  steps  by  which  the  soul  hath  climbed. 

This  morning  I  saw  smoke  mounting  straight  to  the 
sky  from  the  bank  of  the  river:  'twas  an  encampment 
of  the  thievish  people  called  gipsies ;  only  a  week 
before  they  had  robbed  my  poultry-yard.  Thus  do 
thoughts  and  memories  of  evil  always  mar  the  thing 
most  beautiful  upon  the  earth.  I  shut  the  wicket  and 
locked  it,  and  turned  back  to  the  house. 

My  own  house :  my  own  garden :  all  that  is  con- 
tained in  either  is  mine.     I  received  them  as  a  gift ; 


4  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

and  I  have  resolved  upon  telling  you  why  I  accepted 
this  gift  and  from  whom  it  came. 

Twenty  years  and  more  had  I  lived  in  this  house 
alone,  save  for  Molly,  my  faithful  woman.  A  long 
time:  a  peaceful  time:  a  time  without  pain  or  disease 
of  the  body,  without  any  anxiety  of  the  mind  except 
for  the  natural  sadness  which  can  never  leave  a  mind 
so  full  of  memories:  yet  from  time  to  time  I  am  dis- 
turbed as  I  consider  the  place  and  remember  that  I 
am  the  owner  of  all.  Mine  is  the  house:  mine  the 
books,  the  furniture,  the  plate,  the  wardrobe,  the 
jewels,  the  garden,  the  orchard,  the  greenhouses — 
everything  mine.  Yet  what  kind  of  price  have  I  paid 
for  these  things?  Whenever  I  arrive  at  this  question, 
my  heart  beats  and  my  cheek  changes  colour.  If  I 
am  in  the  house  I  make  haste  to  open  a  desk  and  to 
take  from  it  two  miniatures.  The  one  represents  him 
who  was  once  my  lover  ;  the  other,  the  fondest,  faith- 
fullest  friend  that  ever  woman  had.  These,  too,  were 
mine,  and  they  represented  the  price  that  I  had  paid. 
You  shall  hear,  if  you  will  listen.  Good  name  and 
reputation  I  had  given  ;  friends  and  relations  I  had 
abandoned  ;  obscurity  I  had  accepted — nay,  embraced. 
No  anchoress  woman  in  her  cage  was  more  lonely 
than  I,  whom  no  one  ever  visited  except  one  friend  of 
that  undying  past  and  the  Rector  of  Hackney — a 
good  and  worthy  man  who  still,  against  his  will,  be- 
lieves the  worst  that  can  be  whispered  of  me  and  waits 
for  the  time  when  I  shall  make  confession.  This  was 
a  grievous  price  for  a  woman,  then  young,  of  good  re- 
pute, well  connected,   and  of  pious  conversation,     I 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  Words*  S 

say  that  this  was  indeed  a  heavy  price  to  pay.  At 
the  time  I  counted  not  the  cost.  Indeed,  I  willingly 
paid  the  price.  Yes,  and  I  would  pay  it  all  over 
again :  the  loss  of  name  and  reputation ;  the  burden 
of  a  shameful  story  :  for  nobody  in  the  world  who 
once  knew  me  or  has  heard  tell  of  me — to  be  sure, 
there  are  not  many — but  whispers  evil  things  about 
me  and  believes  the  worst.  Their  whispers  do  not 
reach  me  here  :  the  things  that  they  believe  do  me  no 
harm.  I  am  dead  to  scandal :  I  am  dead  to  the 
world :  I  live  here,  now  a  woman  of  forty  and  more  : 
I  hear  nothing  that  is  said  and  know  nothing  that  is 
done.  All  my  life  lies  in  a  brief  season  of  three  short 
months.  It  is  but  a  little  time  to  make  a  life,  but  I 
live  it  over  and  over  and  over  again :  I  am  never  tired 
of  letting  my  memory  dwell  upon  every  day  of  that 
short  time.  I  desire  no  other  Heaven  than  to  live 
that  brief  time  over  and  over  again,  from  the  first  even- 
ing when  those  two,  whose  miniatures  I  keep,  came 
to  my  help,  down  to  the  last  morning  when  we  parted, 
never  to  meet  again.  Oh !  Name,  fame,  rumour, 
scandal,  reputation — all — all — all  would  I  freely  give 
over  and  over  again  and  think  them  of  no  account  for 
the  dear  sake  of  that  brief  time  and  of  that  most  god- 
like lover  ! 

At  the  thought  of  that  time,  house  and  garden  and 
orchard  and  lawns,  the  breath  of  summer,  the  blue  of 
the  sky,  the  sunshine,  all  vanish  :  they  sink  and  fall 
and  disappear.  I  am  once  more  in  the  parlour  of  the 
house  in  St.  James's  Place,  and  my  heart  is  beating 
and  my  cheek  is  glowing  because  I  know  that  he  is 


6  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

coming  and  because  he  loves  me.  Yes — he  loves  me 
— me,  the  first.  To  myself  I  dare  to  own  and  to  avow 
it :  I  confess  it  with  a  front  of  brass  :  I  glory  in  the 
memory  of  it :  I  am  so  proud  of  it  that  I  can  hardly 
contain  myself  :  on  Sunday  when  I  walk  to  church, 
Molly — the  faithful,  fond  Molly — who  alone  knows  all 
the  truth,  behind  me,  I  dress  myself  in  my  best  silk  ; 
I  wear  my  gold  chain  ;  I  draw  on  my  best  silk  gloves, 
and  I  walk  down  the  aisle  to  my  pew  with  head  erect 
and  proud  bearing.  The  world  knows  not  why  ;  but 
Molly  knows  :  Molly  says  to  herself,  as  she  carries 
Bible  and  prayer-book,  "  Madam  does  well  to  bear  her- 
self proudly.     Madam  has  been  loved  by "     But 

this  we  never  say  :  we  only  think  it.  Some  things 
there  are  that  must  not  even  be  whispered. 

Now,  as  I  was  meditating  this  morning,  not  for  the 
first  time,  nor  for  the  hundredth,  upon  these  things, 
there  came  running  into  the  garden  Molly  herself — 
and  at  the  sight  of  her  the  past  vanished  again  and  the 
present  returned. 

"  Madam,"  she  said,  quickly,  "  there  is  my  Lord's 
carnage  coming  up  the  road :  his  runners  are  even 
now  standing  at  the  door,  but  the  carriage  is  stuck  in 
last  year's  ruts.  They  are  lifting  it  over.  Shall  I  lay 
out  your  black  silk  frock?     You  have  time." 

There  was  but  one  noble  Lord  who  ever  came 
to  see  me:  there  was  no  occasion  to  name  him. 
He  was  the  one  friend  who  remained  to  me  of  the 
past. 

"  Molly,"  I  said,  "  I  will  put  on  my  grey  silk,  and, 
if  there  is  time,  touch  my  hair  before  my  Lord  arrives. 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  Words.  7 

And  give  the  runners,  while  his  carriage  stands  at  the 
door,  a  drink  of  ale  and  a  piece  of  cheese." 

So  presently,  in  my  grey  silk  and  my  gold  chain  and 
lace  gloves,  I  descended  the  stairs  and  found  his  Lord- 
ship waiting  for  me  in  the  best  parlour. 

Robert,  Viscount  de  Lys,  was  at  this  time  nearly 
fifty  years  of  age.  Too  great  a  devotion  to  the  bottle 
in  his  early  manhood  had  produced  in  him  symptoms 
which  threatened  to  cut  short  his  earthly  pilgrimage. 
Indeed,  he  died  about  three  months  after  this  visit, 
which  was  the  last  time  that  I  saw  him.  The  gout 
flying  about  him,  settled  in  his  stomach,  where  it 
killed  him  after  inflicting  terrible  pains.  As  befits  his 
rank,  he  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where,  I 
am  told  (for  I  have  not  seen  it)  that  a  marble  monu- 
ment represents  him  as  borne  up  to  Heaven,  with  the 
Star  of  the  Bath  upon  his  breast,  by  two  angels.  In- 
deed, I  hope  that  his  soul  has  received  the  reward  of 
everlasting  happiness,  though  it  must  be  owned  that 
during  life,  like  many  other  gentlemen  of  Quality,  he 
lived  as  if  the  means  of  grace  were  not  intended  for 
persons  of  rank,  and  as  if  they  had  no  occasion  to 
regard  the  next  world  u-ith  either  fear  or  hope.  Yet 
a  man  of  kindly  heart  and  generous,  and,  except  for 
this  vice  of  drinking,  of  a  cleanly  life.  To  me  he  was 
always  loyal  and  true.  Wherefore,  if  the  prayers  of 
the  living  could  help  the  dead.  Lord  de  Lys  should 
have  my  prayers,  night  and  day. 

On  this  day  he  hobbled,  leaning  on  his  gold-headed 
cane  more  than  was  customary  with  him.  His  feet 
were  in   soft  shoes  ;  his  fingers  were  swollen  at  the 


8  A  Fountain  SealecJ. 

joints  ;  his  face  was  red ;  his  eyes  were  bloodshot ; 
his  voice  was  husky.  He  was  sitting  in  the  window- 
seat  looking  across  my  front  garden  planted  with  box 
cut  into  shapes. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  rising  with  difficulty,  and  kissing 
my  hand — he  always  had  the  finest  manners  in  the 
world — "  I  need  not,  I  am  sure,  repeat  that  I  am  al- 
ways your  most  obedient  servant  to  command  in  any- 
thing." 

"  Your  Lordship,"  I  replied,  "  is,  which  is  much 
better,  always  my  kindest  friend."  Compliments 
mean  little,  yet  show  friendliness.  For  instance,  when 
one  gazes  upon  a  man  who  is  the  mere  pitiful  wreck  of 
what  he  once  was ;  when  one  remembers  what  he 
once  was — how  tall  and  gallant  and  comely  ;  and  when 
one  tells  that  man  that  he  looks  well  but  for  the  touch 
of  gout  in  his  feet — which,  indeed,  is  a  good  sign,  for 
gout  is  better  out  than  in — why,  one  means  nothing 
but  the  assurance  of  friendly  interest.  Such  compli- 
ments passed,  we  sat  down,  and  came  at  once  to  the 
business  in  hand. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  have  in  my  possession — they 
have  been  lent  to  me  by  the  person  to  whom  they  are 
addressed  for  the  express  purpose  of  showing  them 
to  you — certain  letters  which  give  me  a  pretext  for 
making  this  visit." 

"  Then  am  I  vastly  obliged  to  the  letters.  They 
concern  me,  I  may  presume,  in  some  way  or  other." 

"  They  will  certainly  interest  you.  You  shall  judge 
for  yourself  how  they  concern  yourself." 

"  What  letters  can  they  be  ?  You  awaken  my  curi- 
osity, my  Lord." 


Her  Majesty's  Own  Words,  9 

"  They  are  written  by  a  certain  Person — whom  you 
once  knew — to  Lord  North." 

"  Oh !  But  .  .  .  What  has  Lord  North  to  do  with 
me?  Why  does  that  Person  write  to  Lord  North 
about  me?  " 

"  Lord  North  has  nothing  to  do  with  you.  He 
does  not  even  know  of  your  existence." 

"  Then,  how  can  they  concern  me?  My  Lord,  do 
not  without  reason  remind  me  that  the  world  is  cruel 
and  censorious  and  believes  the  worst." 

"  I  do  not  seek  to  do  so,  Madam,  I  assure  you. 
Indeed,  you  have  so  often  informed  me  of  the  true 
relations — I  mean,  of  the  true  friendship  once  exist- 
ing between  yourself  and  a  certain  Person — that  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  see  these  letters,  which,  in 
fact,  corroborate  your  information." 

"If  you  wish  me  to  read  them  I  will  do  so,  though 
I  do  not  desire.  I  had  thought  that  nothing  would 
ever  occur  which  would  bring  me  back  to  the  world 
again — or  bring  the  world  to  me." 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Madam,  I  would  not  willingly 
disturb  your  rest,  since  it  is  your  pleasure  to  live 
buried  in  this  solitude.  But  these  letters  you  must, 
indeed,  read,  if  only  for  your  own  satisfaction." 

"  But,  my  Lord,  once  more :  how  does  Lord  North 
know  anything  about  me?" 

"  I  know  not.  I  am  sure  that  he  knows  nothing 
definite  about  you.  I  am  the  only  person  now  living 
who  knows  anything  about  the  matter." 

*' Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  know  the  story,  my 
Lord?" 


10  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  Can  any  man  know  more  of  a  woman  than  she 
chooses  to  tell  ?  " 

"  I  am  still  waiting  to  know  what  Lord  North 
thinks  or  has  heard." 

"  There  are  rumours — quite  uncertain  and  vague — 
about  the  early  life  of  the  Person  aforesaid :  I  sup- 
pose, because  alone  among  those  of  his  rank  he  hath 
led,  and  still  doth  lead,  an  unspotted  life.  People,  as 
a  rule,  do  not  like  those  in  very  high  places  to  be  vir- 
tuous :  every  Prince  must  needs  commit  the  common 
sins  in  order  to  win  the  love  of  the  multitude:  his 
faults,  I  suppose,  bring  him  down  to  the  common 
level.  Very  well,  these  rumours  cling  to  a  certain 
house  in  St.  James's  Place,  and  to  a  certain  lady  who 
once  lived  there." 

*'  The  rumour  is,  of  course,  the  worst  that  can  be 
invented?  " 

"  It  varies.  The  lady  ran  away  with  him :  the 
lady  married  him  secretly — it  varies  according  to  the 
imagination  or  the  inventive  faculty  of  the  person 
handing  it  on :  it  grows :  it  becomes  embellished  : 
your  name  is  known  :  your  religion  is  known  :  nothing 
else  is  certain.  People  turn  into  St.  James's  Place 
when  they  wish  to  calumniate  that  person,  and  point 
to  the  house  and  tell  their  story," 

"  Nothing  matters  to  me  now,  since  I  am  retired 
from  the  world." 

"  Lord  North,  therefore,  called  upon  me.  He  said 
to  me,  '  Rumour  credits  you  with  knowing  something 
of  certain  passages  which  formerly  happened  in  the 
life  of — this  Person.'     I  replied  that  it  was  true  that 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  "Words.  ii 

accident  had  placed  me  in  possession  of  facts  which 
could  not  be  published." 

*'  In  a  word,  my  Lord,  you  allowed  Lord  North  to 
believe  that  these  disgraceful  rumours  were  true,"  I 
replied,  but  would  say  no  more,  thinking  of  the  price 
I  had  paid  for  this  house. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  dear  Madam,  I  assure  you. 
He  wished  me  to  confess  that  these  rumours  were 
true,  but  I  refused.  He  then  lugged  out  these  letters 
and  asked  me  to  read  them.  '  If,'  he  said,  'any  other 
person  knows  the  facts  of  the  case,  let  that  person  also 
read  the  letters.  He,  or  she,  will  understand  that 
now,  if  ever,  the  most  absolute  silence  must  be  ob- 
served.' " 

"  But  if  there  is  nothing  that  need  be  concealed  ?  " 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  the  whole  world  may  read  the 
letters.  If,"  he  added,  "any  money  were  wanted  for 
the  purchase  of  other  letters " 

"  Do  not  insult  me,  my  Lord." 

"  Pardon  me,  Madam.  I  do  but  repeat  what  he 
said." 

"  The  letters,  you  tell  me,  come  from — a  certain 
Person.  Does  that  Person  know  of  this  message  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not.  I  should  say,  not.  My  own  ex- 
istence is  probably  forgotten  by  that  Person.  He  de- 
sires, apparently,  to  bury  in  oblivion  a  certain  passage 
in  his  life.  Would  he,  then,  be  thought  more — or  less 
—than  Man  ?  " 

"  He  is  more  than  Man,"  I  replied.  "The  ordinary 
man   cannot  contemplate  such  virtues   as  were  hers. 


12  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Now,  my  Lord,  it  is  idle  to  talk  about  secrecy.  I,  who 
might  have  enjoyed  notoriety  at  least,  which  is  a  kind 
of  fame,  have  accepted  obscurity  and  silence.  Is  it 
likely  that  I  am  going  to  attempt  notoriety  after 
twenty  years  and  more?  As  for  money — you  know 
why  I  took  certain  gifts,  once  and  for  all,  though  I 
had  no  need  of  any  gifts,  or  any  help  whatever  in  that 
way." 

"  Madam," — he  bowed  again — "  your  conduct  has 
been  always  full  of  dignity,  and  worthy  of  that  pas- 
sion which  was  once  lavished  upon  you." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "  without  more  words,  let  me  see 
these  letters." 

He  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  book  in  which  lay  two 
letters.  "  You  will,  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  recognise 
the  handwriting." 

I  did.  I  had  one  letter — only  one — in  the  same 
handwriting,  which  was  little  changed.  He  opened 
and  gave  me  one  of  the  letters.  It  had  reference  to 
the  creation  of  a  separate  establishment  for  the  writer's 
eldest  son.  The  following  passage  halfway  down 
caught  my  eyes:  "I  thank  Heaven  that  my  morals 
and  course  of  life  have  but  little  resembled  those  pre- 
valent in  the  present  age  :  and  certainly  of  all  the  ob- 
jects of  this  life,  the  one  I  have  most  at  heart  is  to 
form  my  children  that  they  may  become  useful  ex- 
amples and  worthy  of  imitation." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  the  sentiment  is  worthy  of  the 
writer." 

"  And  his  gratitude  is,  no  doubt,  based  on  a  sound 
and  solid  foundation." 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  Words.  13 

"  Assuredly,"  I  replied.  "  Is  this  all  you  have  to 
show  me  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  other  letter,"  he  said,  handing  it  to 
me  with  curiosity  in  his  eyes. 

It  was  a  letter  of  a  very  private  character.  I  felt 
that  I  had  no  right  to  be  reading  it  :  the  letter  was 
not  meant  for  the  eyes  of  any  one  but  Lord  North. 
At  the  end  of  it  was  this  passage  :  "  I  am  happy  at 
being  able  to  say  that  I  never  was  personally  engaged 
in  such  a  transaction,  which  makes  me  feel  this  busi- 
ness the  stronger." 

"  Such  a  transaction,"  his  Lordship  repeated.  "  He 
means  an  amour — a  pre-nuptial  amour." 

"  Not  at  all.  It  means  that  his  son  has  become 
involved  in  some  love  affair  of  a  low  and  disgraceful 
kind  :  that  he  has  now,  in  order  to  avoid  the  exposure 
which  the  disgraceful  woman  threatens,  to  buy  back 
letters.  This  Person  writes  that  he  has  no  such  odious 
business  on  his  conscience :  that  he  has  never  written 
letters  which  the  whole  world  might  not  read :  that 
there  is  no  creature  living  who  either  could  or  would 
threaten  him.  That  is  the  meaning,  my  Lord,  of  this 
passage." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  rather,  as  if  his  memory  was  play- 
ing him  false.  Such  a  transaction.  Has  he,  then,  for- 
gotten everything?" 

"  Go  on,  my  Lord."     But  my  cheek  burned. 

"  Nay !  All  I  would  say  is  that  at  the  present 
juncture  it  is  highly  important  that  the — the — passage 
I  referred  to  should  not  be  whispered  about.  The 
effect  might  be  most  mischievous.     It  must  not  even 


14  A  Fountain  Scaled, 

be  known  that  the  writer  of  this  letter  was  ever  en- 
gaged in  any  love  affair  at  all  before  his  marriage,  not 
even  a  simple  and  platonic  affair  of  conversation  only, 
and,  you  will  allow  me  to  observe,  the  censorious 
might  ask  why  a  mere  friendship  was  rewarded  by  a 
comfortable  allowance  in  the  country." 

"  One  moment,  my  Lord,"  I  interrupted  him. 
"  This  house  and  the  annuity  on  which  I  live  were  not 
given  me  by  the  writer  of  this  letter.  Let  me  assure 
you  quite  seriously  upon  this  point.  If  you  have 
thought  otherwise,  pray  think  so  no  longer." 

"  Indeed,"  he    said    thoughtfully.     "  Then    I  know 

not  who But,  dear  Madam,  why  should  I  give  you 

pain  ?  I  have  shown  you  the  letters.  I  have  told  you 
what  Lord  North  said.     I  have  nothing  to  add." 

"  About  secrecy ;  who  is  there  left  to  talk  about 
the  affair  ?  You,  my  Lord,  will  never  speak  about  it 
to  any  one.  His  brother  Edward  died — alas  ! — seven 
years  after  it.  Corporal  Bates  was  killed  in  action. 
Molly  doesn't  talk  ;  my  cousin  Isabel  is  dead  ;  Mr. 
Robert  Storey  is  dead :  he  died  a  bankrupt,  poor 
wretch !  in  the  Fleet.  The  Doctor,  old  Mr.  Mynster- 
chamber,  went  abroad,  I  believe,  and  must  now  be 
dead.  Mrs.  Bates,  the  widow,  may  know  something, 
but  very  little " 

"  Dear  Madam,  there  remain  only  you  and  I  and 
Molly.  Yet  this  Mrs.  Bates — it  may  be  that  through 
her  the  rumours  have  spread.  It  is  strange  how 
rumours  arise  and  grow  and  are  spread  around. 
Well,  we  cannot  help  rumours  and  whispers :  we  can- 
not silence  the  world.     It  is  enough  for  me  to  assure 


Her  Majesty's  Own  Words*  i5 

Lord  North  that  there  is  no  danger  of  anything  worse 
than  a  whisper ;  or  more  dangerous  than  scandalous 
gossip.  There  will  be  no  proof  that  the  son  is  only 
treading  in  the  footprints  of  his  father.  Let  us  now, 
dear  Madam,  talk  of  things  more  pleasant  and,  to  me, 
more  interesting  than  of  rumours  which  attack  your 
name." 

We  talked  long  and  earnestly  :  there  was  much  to 
recall — the  treachery  of  the  Doctor,  the  good  fortune 
of  the  Corporal,  the  evening  of  the  masquerade,  and 
many,  many  other  things  of  which  he  knew  a  little 
and  thought  he  knew  a  great  deal.  We  sat  talking 
together  in  my  best  parlour  for  three  or  four  hours. 

"  Nancy,"  he  said — for,  having  taken  a  glass  or  two 
while  we  talked,  he  had  gone  back  to  the  past,  when 
it  was  Fair  Nancy,  or  Cruel  Nancy  or  Conquering 
Nancy,  or  Heartless  Nancy,  or  Nancy  the  Toast,  or 
any  other  compliment  that  he  might  light  upon,  in  a 
word — his  imagination  was  inflamed  to  some  degree 
— "  Nancy,  whenever  I  remember  that  happy  time 
when  a  bottle — nay,  three  bottles — brought  nothing 
worse  in  the  morning  than  an  aching  head,  and  when 
I  gazed  daily  upon  thy  charms — ah  !  sweet  Nancy  " — 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  mine,  but  a  twinge  of  the  gout 
caused  him  to  draw  it  back  swiftly — "  I  say — devil 
take  this  gout ! — that  whenever  I  think  of  that  time  it 
is  your  heavenly  face  that  still  I  see." 

"  Through  the  bottles,  my  Lord  ?  " 

"Perhaps."  He  sighed.  "We  could  see  through 
half-a-dozen  bottles  in  those  days.  Thy  face.  Madam 
Nancy,  was  lovely  then,  and  'tis,  I  swear,  lovely  still. 


1 6  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

But  in  those  days,  for  the  angelic  sweetness  and  tender- 
ness of  it,  I  say  that  it  had  no  equal." 

"  Your  Lordship  is  so  good  as  to  pay  me  compli- 
ments." 

"  They  are  the  truth,  not  compliments  at  all.  And 
this  being  the  case,  even  though  you  should  a  thou- 
sand times  afifirm  the  contrary,  out  of  your  constancy 
and  fidelity,  I  will  never  believe  that  a  certain  Person 
did  not  think  so  as  well.  Come,  Nancy,  we  are  old 
friends :  I  am  discretion  itself :  it  is  an  old  story  :  tell 
me  :  was  this  person  a  stock  and  a  stone?  " 

"  Certainly  he  was  neither  stock  nor  stone.  Yet, 
my  Lord,  the  words  written  in  these  letters  are  the 
truth." 

"  Ta-ra-ra  !  Ta-ra-ra  !  "  said  his  Lordship.  "  'Twas 
ever  the  most  obstinate  piece — as  well  as  the  loveli- 
est." 

His  Lordship,  I  know  very  well,  always  took  plea- 
sure in  my  society.  On  this  occasion — though  he  kept 
his  horses  standing  in  the  road  and  his  people  waiting 
for  him — though  as  to  that  he  paid  no  heed — he  re- 
mained talking  with  me,  I  say,  for  nearly  four  hours. 
It  pleases  me  now  to  think  with  what  kindness  and  re- 
membrance he  spoke  of  the  past  which  he  had  in  a 
measure  shared.  Yet,  for  all  I  could  say,  I  perceived 
that  he  could  not  believe  one  word  as  to  my  relations 
with  the  Person  above  referred  to.  By  this  time  I 
was  accustomed  to  this  disbelief  which  at  the  outset 
cut  me  to  the  soul.  What  did  I  say  above?  The 
price  was  name  and  fame  and  reputation — all  the 
things  that  a  woman  most  highly  prizes.     And  I  had 


Her  Majesty's  Own  Words.  17 

paid  that  price.  Not  one  word  did  my  Lord  believe 
— affirm  it  as  I  might — as  to  the  truth  of  those  two 
letters.  He  laughed  :  he  put  it  off  with  a  smile,  with 
the  uphfting  of  his  eyebrows,  with  a  gentle  inclina- 
tion of  his  head,  with  the  wave  of  his  hand,  with  a 
"  Nay,  Madam,  since  you  say  so,"  with  a  pinch  of 
snuff. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  seized  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  doth 
not  Heaven  itself  send  some  thoughts,  while  the  Devil 
if  we  admit  him  into  the  chambers  of  Imagery,  as  the 
Prophet  calls  them,  sends  others  ?  Advise  me,  my 
Lord.     I  am  now  past  forty " 

"  For  most  women  it  is  a  great  age.  You  are  still 
young,  however.  At  forty  I  already  hobbled :  I  am 
now  nearly  fifty,  with  both  feet  hanging  over  the 
grave.  But  for  my  advice.  How  can  I  advise  thee, 
Nancy  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  what  length  of  days  may  remain  to 
me.  But  I  think  that  perhaps  some  part  of  the  al- 
lotted space  might  be  spent  in  dissipating  whispers  or 
contradicting  scandals  which  may  be  flying  around 
concerning  this  Person." 

"  For  the  moment  it  would,  perhaps,  be  best  to  ob^ 
serve  silence." 

"  Yet  you  say  that  there  are  whispers " 

"  Undoubtedly  there  are.  When  a  certain  Person, 
is  observed,  or  is  rumoured — his  face  was  not  abso- 
lutely unknown  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  James's — 
to  visit  a  certain  house  :  when  it  is  ascertained  that  a 
certain  lady  of  that  name  really  lived  there -" 

'•'Add,  if  you  please,  that  the_,  lady  was  always  ac- 


1 8  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

companied  by  another  lady  ;  and  the  Person  was  al- 
ways accompanied  by  his  brother " 

"  These,  observe,  are  facts  which  the  world  does 
not  know.  Let  me  add  that  when  this  lady  disap- 
pears suddenly :  when  no  one,  not  even  her  own 
friends,  know  where  she  is  .  .  .  then  ..."  He  took 
a  pinch  of  snuff  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Granted  the  whispers  :  would  it  not  suffice  if  I 
wrote  down  exactly  the  truth  as  it  happened — for  the 
sake  of  the  reputation  of  the  Person  concerned?" 

"  Why,"  he  replied,  "  the  world  would  be  very  much 
interested :  the  booksellers  would  be  enriched :  the 
Person  concerned  would  not  be  grateful :  the  lady 
would  not  be  cleared  :  and  the  whispers  would  go  on." 

"  Still — it  is  surely  best  always  to  have  the  truth 
told." 

"  No  one,  certainly,  would  tell  it  so  well  as  you, 
dear  lady.  Besides,"  he  laughed,  "  what  woman  could 
desire  a  more  pleasing  task  than  to  relate  in  her  own 
words  the  history  of  her  own  amours?" 

The  words  seemed,  at  the  time,  mocking  and  heart- 
less. Lord  de  Lys  sometimes  spoke  in  this  light  and 
satirical  voice :  he  meant,  I  thought,  that  a  woman 
could  thus  hide  what  she  wished,  and  reveal  what 
would  set  her  in  a  better  light.  However,  they  were 
wise  words  as  I  now  understand.  No  one,  sure,  knows 
the  heart  of  a  woman  so  well  as  herself. 

"  My  Lord,"  I  replied,  "  pleasing  or  not,  I  am  re- 
solved " — the  resolution  was  formed  at  that  moment 
only — "  to  commit  to  writing  a  full  and  complete  his- 
tory of  an  affair  concerning  which  the  world  knows 


Her  Majesty^s  Own  Words.  19 

nothing — not  for  the  clearhig  of  my  own  reputation, 
of  which  I  care  nothing,  for  in  this  secluded  spot  noth- 
ing reaches  me  :  but  for  the  reputation  of  another." 

"  Well,  Nancy,  I  think  the  world  will  like  its  own 
version  best.  Tell  the  truth,  dear  woman,  by  all 
means ;  and  the  world  will  fall  in  love  with  thee : 
and,  what  is  more,  will  remain  in  love  with  thee,  long 
after  thou  art  laid  in  Hackney  Churchyard.  Tell  the 
truth:  nothing  could  possibly  do  more  to  raise  the 
soul  of  a  young  man  than  to  love  the  idea  and  the 
presentment  of  such  a  w^oman  as  thyself." 

"Not  compliments,  my  Lord;  but  as  much  advice 
as  you  please." 

"  Then,  Nancy,  my  advice  is  this.  If  you  write 
about  love,  talk  little  of  other  matters.  Let  your 
discourse  be  always  of  love.  Speak  not  of  affairs  of 
State :  keep  the  lover  always  before  your  readers. 
Let  them  have  the  voice  of  love  and  see  the  eyes  of 
love.  Do  not  dwell  at  length  upon  your  previous 
history  or  your  later  histor}',  or  anything  except  what 
is  necessary  to  show  how  he  fell  in  love  with  you, 
and  why.  Tell  the  world  who  you  w^ere  and  what 
you  were,  and  then  let  the  Tragedy — or  the  Comedy — 
begin.  When  the  love  tale  is  ended,  close  the  vol- 
ume:  draw  a  line  :  write  'Finis'  below — walk  off  the 
stage,  and  do  not  let  your  lover  lag  behind." 

This  seemed  sensible  advice.  As  my  story  con- 
cerns one  person  mostly,  I  must  write  about  little 
but  what  concerned  him. 

"  I  will  try  to  remember  your  advice.  Meantime, 
my  Lord,  here  is  something  for  your  own  ears.     You 


20  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

spoke  about  the  fact  of  a  certain  lady  retiring  into 
obscurity  in  affluence.  I  know,  of  course,  what  was 
meant ;  I  have  known  all  along  that  such  a  thing 
would  be  meant.,  This  house  is  mine,  and  it  was 
given  to  me.  I  have  lived  in  it  since  November,  1760. 
It  was  given  to  me  at  my  own  rec|uest.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  day  when  we  parted — on  October  the  25th, 
1760,  his  brother  Edward  came  to  see  me." 

"  I  met  him  walking  across  St.  James's  Place,  I  re- 
member." 

"He  came  to  me.  He  remained  with  me  alone  for 
some  time  :  he  spoke  most  tenderly  and  sorrowfully ; 
he  took  all  the  blame  upon  himself :  he  confessed  that 
he  ought  to  have  told  me  all  at  the  outset :  he  asked 
what  I  proposed  to  do :  he  agreed  that  I  could  not  go 
home  to  live  with  my  brother,  which  would  be  worse 
than  anything :  he  promised  that  his  own  lawyers 
should  make  him  give  up  my  fortune :  then,  with  a 
noble  generosity,  he  offered  to  give  me  what  I  asked 
of  him — a  house  in  the  country,  so  that  I  could  always 
feel  that  I  belonged  still,  and  all  my  life  should  belong, 
to  his  brother  and  to  him." 

"  Madam,"  said  Lord  de  Lys,  "upon  my  word,  you 
amaze  me.  For  twenty  years  I  have  believed  that 
this  house,  with  an  annuity,  w^as  given  to  you  by  that 
Person." 

"  This  is  the  literal  truth.  I  knew  what  would  be 
said  and  thought  by  those  who  knew  some  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case.  But  I  have  told  you  the  lit- 
eral truth.  More  :  this  most  generous  of  men,  this  fond 
and  faithful  friend,  CAnie  qften  tp  see  me  until  he  left. 


Her  Majesty's  Own  Words.  21 

the  country  on  his  last  voyage,  from  which  he  was 
nevermore  to  return.  No  one  can  ever  know  with 
what  a  truly  brotherly  love  he  regarded  me,  and  how 
he  lamented  with  me  the  bitterness  of  fate  which 
dashed  from  my  lips  the  cup  which  was  just  prepared 
for  me.  My  Lord,  the  world  knows  not  what  a  heart 
of  gold  was  lost  when  Edward — I  still  must  call  him 
by  his  Christian  name — when  my  brother — yes,  my 
brother — Edward  died." 

"  Nancy,  tell  me  no  more.  Why  should  I  revive 
the  tears  of  the  past  ?  Well — give  me  a  sailor — should 
every  woman  say  :  'tis  only  a  sailor  who  does  the 
truly  generous  things." 

It  was  then  four  o'clock.  Molly  opened  the  door 
to  tell  me  that  dinner  was  served. 

"  My  Lord,  I  have  for  dinner  a  simple  breast  of  veal 
roasted,  stuffed.  Molly  is  a  plain  cook,  but  I  warrant 
the  roast  wholesome  and  good.  There  will  also  be 
some  sweet-pudding  or  fruit-pie :  and  I  can  give  you  a 
bottle  of  good  wine,  I  believe,  if  you  will  honour  me 
with  your  company  at  my  humble  meal." 

He  condescended  to  dine  with  me.  His  appetite,  as 
I  feared,  was  not  good  :  indeed,  he  could  eat  but  little  : 
yet  he  complimented  Molly  on  her  stufifing,  and  he 
professed  to  find  the  pudding  delicious. 

After  dinner  Molly  placed  a  bottle  of  port  on  the 
table.  My  Lord  took  it  up  with  affectionate,  though 
swollen  fingers. 

"  I  have  loved  thee  too  well,"  he  said,  addressing 
the  bottle,  not  Molly.  "  But  for  the  warmth — nay — 
the  ardour  of  my  passion  for  this  ruby  liquid  wherein 


22  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

I  found  man's  chief  felicity,  I  might  now  be  kneeling 
at  sweet  Nancy's  feet.  Thou  hast  rewarded  me,  un- 
grateful divinity,  with  ten  thousand  red-hot  needles. 
Nevertheless,  as  an  invalid,  a  veteran — a  discharged 
soldier — I  must  still  worship."  He  filled  two  glasses. 
"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  vi'ill  drink  to  you.  Strange  it 
is — oh !  wondrous  strange  !  "  he  gazed  upon  me  with 
admiring  eyes — "  we  have  been  talking  over  the  past 
— and  behold  ! — it  is  a  miracle  ! — your  former  face  has 
come  back  to  you.  Memory  is  a  witch.  Your  face, 
divine  Nancy,  is  now  once  more  as  young:  your  eyes 
are  as  clear:  your  cheek  is  as  soft — oh!  the  peach 
blossom  on  that  cheek  :  as  twenty  years  ago,  when 
that  young — Person — paid  to  all  those  charms  the 
adoration  of  a  maiden  heart.  Nancy — a  vos  beaux 
ycux !  Could  he  again  behold  thee — could  he  get 
rid " 

"  My  Lord !  you  must  not,  indeed,  talk  in  this 
strain.  It  is  unbecoming  for  one  of  your  station,  and 
it  afflicts  me  to  hear  such  discourse.  In  this  house 
we  take  one  glass  of  wine  a  day — Molly  and  I — and 
we  drink  it  to  the  health  and  safety  of  that  certain 
Person." 

He  bowed.  He  gave  me  a  glass  and  poured  out 
one  for  Molly,  who  stood  beside  my  high-backed  arm- 
chair. 

I  stood  up,  glass  in  hand.  "  I  drink,"  I  said,  "  or 
rather,  I  pray,  for  the  continued  health,  happiness, 
and  safety  of  the  noblest  man  in  these  three  King- 
doms." 

Molly    fell    upon    her    knees.      "  By    your    leave, 


^ 

ci. 


Her  Majesty's  Own  "Words.  ^3 

Madam,"  she  said,  "  I  drink  to  the  health  and  happi- 
ness of  your  friend."  These  words  we  exchanged  in 
fact  every  day  after  dinner.  To  me,  if  I  may  say  so 
in  all  respect,  they  were  a  kind  of  daily  Sacrament. 

His  Lordship  rose  with  some  dif^culty.  "  Nancy," 
he  said,  "  your  heart  is  all  constancy  and  fidelity.  It 
moves  me.  ...  I  wonder  if  any  man  born  of  an 
earthly  mother  was  ever  worth  a  heart  so  true  and 
tender.  Madam,  I  drink  the  health  of  that  Person — 
once  your  lover — His  Majesty  the  King  !  " 


CHAPTER!. 
On  the  River  Darenth. 

If  I  shut  my  eyes  and  let  my  memory  go  back  to 
early  days  I  see  a  substantial  square  house  :  in  the 
front  stand  two  goodly  cedars  sweeping  the  lawn :  a 
brick  wall  shuts  out  the  house  from  the  high  road: 
there  are  two  gates  with  iron  railings  of  fine  workman- 
ship :  from  the  gates  one  can  see  a  large  mass  of  low 
buildings — they  are  paper-mills,  belonging  to  a  Quaker 
named  Samuel  Walden  :  the  river  Darenth  flows  past 
the  mills :  about  a  mile  away  there  stands  the  town 
of  Dartford. 

The  house  is  cold  within  and  gloomy :  it  seems  a 
house  which  never  gets  any  sunshine,  yet  the  rooms 
are  lofty  and  the  windows  are  high  and  broad ;  the 
furniture  is  massive  and  costly :  yet,  for  the  bareness 
of  the  walls  and  the  absence  of  ornament,  the  place 
might  pass  for  a  prison. 

At  the  back  of  the  house  is  a  most  beautiful  gar- 
den, broad,  well  cultivated,  full  of  everything  that  an 
English  garden  can  yield.  I  see  a  child  running  about 
that  garden  under  the  shade  of  trees  and  across  sunny 
lawns.  The  place  is  lonely  and  silent,  save  for  the 
birds  in  the  trees.  Sometimes  there  flits  across  the 
grass  a  pale  drooping  figure  in  the  grey  Quaker  dress 


On  the  Rivci  Darenth*  25 

and  white  cap :  sometimes  she  is  sitting  in  the  shade ; 
sometimes  she  is  looking  at  the  child  ;  but  mostly  she 
is  wrapped  in  meditation.  It  is  the  child's  mother, 
who  is  like  an  anchoress  of  old,  inasmuch  as  she  spends 
most  of  her  life  in  considering  the  Divine  Scheme 
of  Redemption  :  she  speaks  little  at  any  time,  even 
at  meeting :  in  the  Roman  Church  she  would  be  a 
saint,  and  work  miracles :  in  the  English  Communion 
she  would  be  accoimted  a  holy  woman.  In  my  recol- 
lection I  always  see  her  thus,  a  silent  ghost  medita- 
ting in  the  garden.  Also  in  my  memory  summer  and 
Runshine  always  remain  ;  rain  and  cold  have  vanished. 
Always  I  see  the  fruit  turning  from  green  to  gold  : 
always  I  breathe  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  :  always 
the  air  is  soft  and  warm :  there  is  always  blue  sky : 
there  are  always  shadows  on  the  lawn,  and  they  slowly 
turn,  so  that  I  know  the  time  by  their  position  as  well 
as  by  the  sundial  in  the  middle  of  the  grass.  I  can 
always  see  the  honey-bees  staggering  under  the  weight 
of  their  burdens  ;  the  flowers  are  always  in  blossom  :  I 
can  see  them  still — roses,  lilies,  sunflowers,  hollyhocks, 
love-lies-bleeding,  ragged  robin,  ivy's  love,  lavender, 
pansy,  clove,  pink,  convolvulus,  stocks,  sweet-william 
' — all  that  you  may  find  in  any  garden. 

The  child  has  no  playmates,  no  toys  or  dolls,  she 
knows  only  such  games  as  her  imagination  has  in- 
vented for  her.  She  has  never  heard  any  of  the  fool- 
ish stories  of  fairies,  lovely  damsels,  brave  lads,  and 
happy  lovers  which  are  told  to  children  of  the  world, 
whereby  their  thoughts  are  turned  to  things  of  the 
world :  she  has  read  no  book  except  portions  of  the 


26  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

Bible,  because  the  godly  books  on  the  shelf  have  no 
attraction  for  her. 

The  child  has  never  heard  the  sound  of  music :  in 
the  house  there  was  no  fond  tinkling  of  the  guitar,  no 
uplifting  of  the  voice  with  a  love  ditty. 

The  child  has  never  seen  a  picture  or  a  drawing 
of  any  kind.  There  were  no  pictures  in  the  house 
at  all — not  a  single  representation  of  even  a  tree 
or  a  flower,  to  say  nothing  of  man,  woman,  or 
child. 

The  child  has  never  heard  the  sound  of  laughter — 
no  one  in  that  house  ever  laughed.  The  Society  of 
Friends,  indeed,  have  for  the  most  part  forgotten  how 
to  laugh.  Nothing  to  them  is  ridiculous ;  certainly 
not  the  sight  of  a  man  suddenly  suffering  pain,  which 
always  excites  mirth  in  the  mind  bucolic ;  nor  the 
sight  of  a  man  in  bewilderment,  consternation,  or 
amazement,  which  makes  the  littler  sort  to  laugh.  It 
was  a  grave  household  even  for  one  of  that  Society. 
The  master  of  the  house  was  always  serious  and  full 
of  thought,  divided  between  his  religion  and  his  af- 
fairs :  the  mistress  was,  as  I  have  said,  greatly  oc- 
cupied in  religious  meditation. 

On  Sundays  in  the  silent  Meeting-house,  while  the 
clock  ticked  and  the  members  sat  with  closed  eyes, 
meditating  and  waiting  to  be  moved,  the  child  looked 
through  an  open  door  upon  a  green  enclosure,  which 
was  the  burial  ground.  There  were  no  head-stones  or 
altar  tombs,  or  monuments  of  any  kind.  The  memory 
of  the  dead  was  not  preserved :  except  for  two  small 
slabs,  each  containing  initials,  there  was  nothing  to 


On  the  River  Darcnth.  •  27 

tell  who  slept  beneath  :  they  were  godly  people  who 
lived  and  died,  and  went  to  Heaven.  What  were 
they  doing  in  Heaven?  the  child  asked.  Sitting  apart 
in  a  Meeting-house,  doubtless,  out  of  sight  or  hearing 
of  the  golden  harps.  The  child  wanted  no  tombstones 
to  know  the  people  who  lay  in  the  ground  :  they  were 
sitting  around  her  in  the  Meeting-house:  the  ghosts 
of  the  dead — though  she  knew  nothing  about  ghosts 
— sat  with  the  living  and  waited  for  the  Divine  prompt- 
ing of  the  Word. 

Among  such  people,  the  child  of  such  people,  did 
this  child  grow  up.  Picture  to  yourself  what  kind  of 
child  she  would  become ! 

Often  in  the  winter  evenings  it  pleases  me  to  recall 
these  old  days.  There  were  many  things  which  as  a 
child  I  neither  observed  nor  understood — such,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  stiffness  and  wooden  carriage  of  both 
men  and  women.  To  me,  after  more  than  twenty 
years'  knowledge  of  the  world,  I  still  contrast  the 
courtesy  of  a  wellbred  man  ;  the  graceful  movement 
of  a  gentlewoman  ;  the  unconscious  ease  with  which 
young  people  of  the  world  move  and  speak ;  with  the 
stiffness  which  I  used  to  consider  part  of  our  holy  call- 
ing. I  blush  to  remember  how  my  own  brother 
moved  with  the  constraint  of  a  wooden  image  :  how  he 
spoke  with  harsh  voice  ignorant  of  music  or  of  modu- 
lation :  how  he  said  things  uncouth  because  he  en- 
joyed no  softening  influence  of  society  to  teach  him 
civility. 

As  for  knowledge  of  the  outer  world  I  only  knew 
that  it  was  the  freehold  property  of  the  devil,  the  men 


28  A  Fountain  Sealeci. 

and  women  in  it  being  merely  his  tenants.  Surely 
this  was  a  most  wicked  thing  to  believe. 

Yet  let  me  not  be  harsh  :  let  me  still  remember, 
honour,  and  obey  the  Fifth  Commandment.  There 
are  no  people  more  charitable  than  the  Friends.  My 
father's  hand  was  always  extended  in  charity  to  the 
unhappy;  my  mother  was  always  making  and  contriv- 
ing for  the  poor. 

When  these  two  died  I,  being  about  fifteen,  was  left 
alone  save  for  my  brother  Joseph,  my  guardian. 

My  brother  was  twelve  years  older  than  myself, 
therefore  already  a  man,  and  on  that  account  alone, 
perhaps,  not  a  companion  for  a  young  girl.  For  other 
reasons,  however,  he  could  not  become  a  companion. 
It  would  not  be  enough  to  say  of  Joseph  that  no  one 
ever  saw  him  smile,  because  no  one  in  the  house  was 
expected  to  smile,  not  to  speak  of  laughing — how  can 
one  laugh  when  one  cannot  forget  the  small  number 
of  the  Elect?  Of  Joseph  it  might  be  said  that  he 
never  even  pretended  to  be  cheerful.  He  knew  not 
the  meaning  of  youthful  sallies,  of  youthful  gaieties, 
of  youthful  longings  :  indeed,  there  was  not  much 
scope  for  youthful  sallies  in  our  house.  On  one  ac- 
count his  friends  were  able  to  be  proud  of  him  :  he 
was  perfectly  and  literally  acquainted  with  certain 
portions  of  Holy  Writ,  and  that  above  any  of  his  fel- 
lows— namely,  those  passages  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles 
which  support  the  doctrine  to  which  Joseph  clung  as 
to  the  very  small  number  of  the  Elect.  Out  of  those 
passages  he  sucked  abundant  matter  for  the  religious 
controversies  in  which  he  delighted.     He  spoke  often 


On  the  River  Darenth.  29 

at  meeting,  and  if  he  failed  to  persuade  he  succeeded 
in  terrifying.  How  can  mortal  presume  so  to  limit 
and  narrow  the  mercy  of  the  Most  High? 

There  was  another  point  about  Joseph  which  caused 
him  to  be  respected  by,  if  not  endeared  to,  many  of 
his  brethren — namely,  that  he  proved  himself  from  the 
very  outset  a  most  prudent,  far-seeing,  keen  man  of 
business.  Of  course,  if  a  young  man  has  to  enter 
upon  trade  it  is  well  that  he  should  make  himself 
an  accomplished  tradesman.  But  it  is  not  good 
for  a  man  to  think  about  nothing  except  trade  and  re- 
ligion. 

In  appearance  Joseph  was  always  stern,  gloomy, 
and  forbidding :  his  hair  was  black ;  he  had  bushy 
black  eyebrows  and  strong  black  eyes  ;  he  was  tall 
and  thin ;  he  carried  himself  bolt  upright  and  walked 
with  a  gold-headed  stick.  He  had  no  private  friends, 
such  as  most  young  men  have  :  nor  did  he  desire  the 
company  of  any,  but  if  company  came  he  discoursed 
upon  things  religious.  He  showed  no  inclination  to- 
wards the  other  sex,  but  held  that  woman  must  be  in 
all  things  submissive  to  man.  In  the  evening  he  sat 
apart,  with  the  ledgers  and  account-books  of  the  mills 
spread  out  before  him,  and  he  would  groan  in  anguish 
if  he  discovered  that  the  profit  account  was  less  than 
he  hoped.  He  read  no  books  ;  he  took  no  interest  in 
the  political  situation  of  his  country  :  he  never  knew, 
or  cared,  whether  the  State  which  protected  him  and 
allowed  him  to  become  rich  was  at  peace  or  at  war, 
whether  it  was  triumphant  or  humiliated.  He  was 
what   is  called  a  gross  feeder,  sitting  down  to  meat 


30  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

with  eagerness ;  and  he  drank  largely,  especially  of 
the  wine  called  Madeira.  Yet  he  was  never  fuddled 
or  the  worse  for  wine  :  indeed  I  now  remember  that 
the  more  Madeira  he  took  the  more  resolute  he  be- 
came still  more  to  diminish  the  number  of  the  Elect, 
insomuch  that  after  the  second  bottle  there  would  re- 
main nothing  but  a  poor  remnant. 

Some  children  there  are  who  are  born  for  happiness, 
some  whose  nature  cannot  bear  happiness.  If  the 
former  do  not  obtain  what  they  naturally  crave  after, 
they  become  afflicted  in  some  way.  I  think,  nay,  I 
am  sure,  that  I  was  one  of  those  who  were  born  for 
happiness :  as  I  grew  out  of  childhood,  and  found  no 
happiness,  but  only  a  perpetual  gloom  with  the  neces- 
sity of  thinking  continually  about  the  safety  of  my 
soul,  there  fell  upon  me  a  dreadful  sickness  of  the 
brain.  It  came  to  me  when  I  was  in  my  twenty-first 
year.  Even  to  think  of  that  sickness  fills  my  mind, 
after  more  than  twenty  years,  with  horror  unspeak- 
able. I  fall  to  trembling  when  I  remember  that  sick- 
ness. It  was  a  despondency  which  attacked  me,  first, 
as  to  things  spiritual  :  I  was  convinced  that  my  soul 
was  lost.  Then  a  strange  heaviness  fell  upon  me.  I 
cared  for  none  of  my  former  amusements  or  occupa- 
tions :  neither  for  the  flowers  in  the  garden  ;  nor  for 
the  singing  of  the  birds  ;  nor  for  reading  in  the  Bible. 
I  wished  not  to  eat ;  I  could  not  carry  on  any  house- 
wifery. 

In  plain  words,  I  suffered  from  melancholia.  Some 
physicians  call  it  hysteria,  I  believe.  Whatever  its 
name,  those  were  its  symptoms. 


On  the  River  Darenth.  31 

The  further  symptoms  of  my  disorder,  then,  were, 
first  a  strange  disinclination  to  undertake  anything  : 
the  mind  refused  to  follow  a  simple  argument:  I 
wandered  about  alone,  doing  nothing:  I  would  burst 
into  tears  without  a  cause:  I  lay  awake  at  night:  I 
had  swoons  and  beating  of  the  heart.  Further,  it 
vexed  me  that  Molly,  my  maid,  would  try  to  divert 
me  with  strange  gifts — such  things  as  sailors  bring 
from  foreign  ports :  tears  would  gather  in  her  eyes 
while  she  watched  me.  I  would  fly  to  the  garden, 
then  in  the  beauty  of  spring,  yet  found  no  comfort 
there:  I  would  be  alone,  but  solitude  made  me  still 
more  wretched  :  I  would  compose  my  mind  and  re- 
duce my  wandering  thoughts  to  order,  but  could  not. 
There  is  no  misery — believe  me — so  great  as  to  find 
that  you  have  lost  control  over  the  mind. 

In  the  morning  I  awoke  with  apprehensions — I 
knew  not  why.  The  day  before  me  became  a  burden 
too  heavy  to  be  borne  :  the  night  behind  me  was  a 
wilderness  of  unbidden  thoughts  and  uncalled  voices. 
In  one  word,  I  was  possessed,  I  say,  with  the  demon 
of  melancholy,  which  is  to  the  mind  what  leprosy  is 
to  the  body  if  it  be  not  expelled. 

Then  terrible  thoughts  and  temptations  entered 
my  head — can  the  soul  be  destroyed  while  the  mind 
is  in  this  condition  of  slavery?  I  thought  that  the 
only  way  out  of  this  wretchedness  was  death  :  and 
then  since  it  had  not  pleased  the  Lord  to  call  me  I 
must  take  the  matter  into  my  own  hands. 

There  was  a  deep  black  pond  in  the  field  beyond 
the  garden  :  a  willow  hung  over  it :  steep  banks  sur- 


32  A  Foontain  Sealed. 

rounded  it.  Whenever  the  temptation  of  death  was 
put  into  my  mind — I  say  put  into  my  mind  because 
of  my  own  will  could  I  never  think  of  such  a  thing — 
I  remembered  this  pond. 

One  morning — the  birds  were  singing  and  the  gar- 
den was  full  of  flowers  and  the  orchard  was  gay  with 
blossoms — I  was  made  to  think  of  this  place.  I  can- 
not call  it  my  own  action  :  I  was  dragged — I  cannot 
acknowledge  that  I  walked — I  say  that  I  was  dragged 
by  invisible  hands — in  the  direction  of  the  pond.  My 
heart  beat  ;  I  was  agitated  by  the  horror  of  the  thing 
which  yet  I  could  not  escape.  I  reached  the  bank :  I 
stood  over  the  dark  waters :  a  moment  more  and  I 
should  have  fallen  in — say,  rather,  I  should  have  been 
dragged  in.  Already  I  felt  the  bitterness  of  death :  I 
tried  to  pray,  but  could  not :  I  felt  the  despair  of  the 
soul  that  is  lost — when  suddenly  I  was  pulled  back. 
'Twas  my  maid  Molly  who  pulled  me  back:  and  at 
sight  of  my  face,  which  was  wan  and  white,  she  cried 
out,  "  Oh  !  Nancy  !  Nancy  !  "  and  fell  on  her  knees 
clasping  her  hands  and  weeping. 

After  that  she  attended  upon  me  day  and  night : 
I  was  not  left  to  myself — but  the  temptation  did  not 
return ;  the  violence  of  the  disorder  left  me.  Yet 
I  was  dull  and  apathetic,  taking  no  interest  in  what 
was  said  or  done.  My  brother  sent  for  a  physi- 
cian, who  came  with  his  great  wig  and  his  gold-headed 
cane.  He  talked  much:  I  know  not  what  he  said, 
but  I  daresay  he  discoursed  very  learnedly.  Still, 
however,  I  remained  in  the  same  condition  doing 
Dothing^  saying   nothing,  thinking   nothing.     And   it^ 


On  the  River  Darenth.  33 

seemed  as  if  melancholy  had  indeed  seized  me,  and 
that  no  more  was  to  be  expected,  for  the  rest  of  my 
life,  except  that  incurable  distraction  of  the  mind 
which  we  call  madness. 

There  was  a  certain  cousin,  Isabel  by  name,  a  young 
widow,  having  been  the  wife  of  Mr.  Reuben  Storey, 
my  mother's  nephew.  She  came  to  see  me  :  she  was 
greatly  shocked  at  my  condition,  and  after  a  while 
she  proposed  to  my  brother  to  take  me  away  to  her 
own  lodging,  in  London,  there  to  give  me  change  of 
air  and  of  scene. 

My  brother  was,  I  think,  glad  to  get  rid  of  a  girl  in 
such  a  condition.  He  put  me  off  upon  his  cousin 
with  the  greatest  alacrity.  And  so  I  was  carried  to 
London. 

Now,  remember  that  my  cousin  was  dressed  in 
Quaker  garb,  the  widow  of  a  Quaker,  herself,  so  far  as 
any  of  us  knew,  still  a  Quakeress,  though  she  was  not 
born  in  the  Society :  that  my  brother  would  never 
have  allowed  me  to  enter  any  house  that  did  not  be- 
long to  some  member  of  the  Society :  that  she  was 
always  demure  and  quiet  in  Joseph's  presence :  and 
that  she  never  once  before  this  revealed  herself  in  any 
other  light  than  that  of  a  consistent  Friend. 

What,  then,  was  my  surprise  when,  as  soon  as  we 
were  through  the  garden  gates,  she  began  to  kiss  me 
and  to  talk  in  a  most  unexpected  manner! 

"  Dear  heart  ! "  she  cried,  "  dear  child,  thou  art 
starving  for  happiness.  I  know  the  symptoms — I  am 
resolved  to  make  thee  cheerful.  What?  A  young 
girl — a  lovely  girl — ought  to  be  happy  and  merry  and 


34  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

gay.  Well,  I  shall  give  you  something  new  to  think 
about :  I  shall  teach  you  to  laugh.  Nancy — think  of 
that !  I  do  not  believe  you  have  ever  heard  a  laugh 
in  that  great  silent  house.  It  will  be  strange  for 
you  to  laugh :  strange  at  first,  but  you  will  grow  ac- 
customed. We  will  talk  like  other  Christians — you 
will  find  it  very  easy.  I  will  teach  you  to  sing  and  to 
play  music:  there  are  many  ways  of  being  happy  in 
the  part  of  town  where  I  live.  You  shall  hear  music. 
Fie  upon  the  Quakers  that  they  have  banished  music 
from  their  Society  !  Why,  it  was  music  which  soothed 
the  troubled  heart  of  Saul :  it  is  music  which  lifts  the 
soul.  As  for  that  pretty  face  "  — she  kissed  that  face 
— "  it  shall  know  another  kind  of  look  in  a  day  or 
two  :  your  pale  cheek  shall  be  rosy.  Your  white  arm 
— it  is  a  poor  thin  arm  at  present — but  it  shall  fill  out. 
What  say  you,  Molly?"  She  ran  on  without  waiting 
for  an  answer.  I  listened  with  speechless  wonder. 
This  kind  of  talk  had  I  never  heard  before.  And  my 
cousin  kept  laughing  while  she  talked.  Why  did  she 
laugh  ? 

"Ah,  Madam!"  cried  Molly.  "This  is  cheerful 
talk.  The  dear  young  lady  wants  not  Meeting- 
houses and  tombstones.  Give  her  cheerful  talk,  and 
I  warrant  she  will  come  round  again,  and  that  right 
soon." 

"  Her  eyes  are  brighter  already,  Molly.  It  is  the 
sight  of  the  wicked  world,  Nancy,  that  does  you  good 
already.  What?  You  are  looking  out  upon  the 
wicked  world  for  the  first  time.  There  go  the  wicked 
men  working  for  their  wicked  wives  for  the  support 


On  the  River  Darenth.  35 

of  their  wicked  children— you  see  them  all  along  the 
streets.  And  here  "  — the  journey  of  twenty  miles 
was  done — "here  is  St.  James's  Place,  close  to  the 
wicked  Park  where  the  wicked  ladies  walk ;  and  here, 
my  dear,  is  my  humble  lodging." 


CHAPTER  IL 
A  Miracle. 

I  HAVE  now  to  relate  an  event  which,  I  cannot 
choose  but  beHeve  was  a  direct  miracle.  How  can  we 
doubt,  I  ask,  that  such  miracles  of  healing  are  per- 
formed every  day,  when  we  believe  in  the  miracle  of  a 
sinner's  conversion  ? 

You  shall  hear. 

I  was  overcome  with  the  fatigue  and  the  excite- 
ment of  the  journey.  When  the  carriage  drew  up  at 
the  door  of  the  house,  instead  of  following  my  cousin 
I  fell  down  in  some  kind  of  swoon  and  was  caught  by 
Molly.  When  I  recovered  Molly  was  standing  over 
me  with  the  hartshorn  and  my  cousin  with  a  glass  of 
wine.  They  took  me  into  a  bedroom  and  put  me  to 
bed,  as  if  I  was  a  child.  I  fell  fast  asleep,  and  con- 
tinued the  whole  night  through  without  disturbance, 
without  terrors,  without  once  thinking  of  my  soul,  and 
without  any  dreams. 

It  was  about  eight  in  the  morning  when  I  woke  up. 
I  was  awakened  by  a  sweet  and  soothing  sound.  It 
was  music.  Remember  that  I  had  never  before  heard 
any  music  at  all.  How  should  a  Quaker  living  in  a 
country  house  hear  music  ?     Why,  I  knew  not  what  it 


A  Miracle.  37 

meant.  I  had  never  to  my  recollection  heard  even 
the  ploughboy  whistling  on  his  way  to  work.  My 
cousin  was  playing  on  the  harpsichord :  she  played 
softly  and  sweetly,  having  a  most  skilful  and  tender 
touch,  so  that  the  air  fell  upon  my  ears  like  a  gentle 
rain  of  refreshment.  I  thought  of  the  harps  of 
Heaven  and  the  hymns  of  the  Blessed.  My  heart 
beat ;  tears  crowded  into  my  eyes.  When  a  new 
emotion  is  experienced,  if  the  words  are  wanting 
which  should  describe  it,  one  speaks  of  it  in  terms 
that  belong  to  other  senses.  If  I  were  to  say,  for 
instance,  that  my  cousin's  music  was  like  the  fragrance 
of  violets  in  the  hedge,  or  like  the  pine-trees  in  the 
rare  sunshine  of  March,  or  like  the  tender  sweetness 
of  the  mignonette,  you  would  understand  that  I  could 
not  tell  you  in  other  words  the  delight  with  which 
this  music  filled  my  willing  soul. 

Then  I  remembered  where  I  was — in  my  cousin's 
lodging  :  not  at  home.  I  sprang  from  my  bed  and 
pushed  back  the  curtains  of  the  darkened  room.  Yes, 
it  was  a  different  room  indeed.  My  own  room  at 
home  had  in  it  nothing  but  a  bed,  a  cupboard,  and  a 
plain  chair  of  cane  :  the  walls  were  bare :  there  were 
no  curtains  or  hangings :  a  bedroom  with  us  was  a 
place  in  which  to  sleep.  This  room  had  coloured 
engravings  on  the  walls  ;  samplers  were  hanging  over 
the  mantelshelf :  there  was  a  soft  carpet :  the  bed  was 
in  an  alcove  with  costly  curtains  and  hangings :  there 
was  a  toilette-table  with  a  large  mirror  and  all  kinds  of 
things  that  women  are  supposed  to  want,  including  a 
pot  of  rouge  and  a  silver  patch-box  and  powder  for  the 


3^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

face.  There  were  two  low  chairs  covered  with  red 
plush. 

I  turned,  bewildered,  to  the  window.  It  looked  out 
upon  the  Green  Park.  The  morning  was  fair :  it  was 
already  eight  o'clock;  nurses  or  mothers  were  there 
with  their  children,  who  ran  about  playing  and  crying 
and  laughing:  soldiers  were  exercising:  there  were 
trees  in  one  place,  and  through  the  branches  I  saw  the 
gleaming  of  a  pond :  on  the  north  side  there  ran  a 
road  through  fields — it  was  the  road  called  Piccadilly, 
horsemen  were  riding  along  :  and  there  passed  by  a 
stage-coach,  laden  and  piled  high  with  parcels  and 
packages,  covered  with  mud,  because  it  had  come  all 
the  way  from  the  West  Country. 

For  a  while,  filled  with  interest  and  curiosity,  I  gazed 
upon  all  these  things.  Then  suddenly  I  made  a 
strange  discovery.  It  was  nothing  less  than  this.  I 
felt    no  longer  the  oppression  that  had  held  me  down. 

This  was  the  Miracle  of  which  I  spoke  above. 

What  had  happened,  then?  My  cousin  was  still 
playing.  I  remembered  how  King  Saul,  who  also 
suffered  from  melancholia,  was  soothed  by  David's 
harp.  But  when  David  went  away  his  malady  returned. 
Doubtless  when  my  cousin  ceased  to  play  my  malady 
would  also  return. 

She  did  cease  to  play.  Then  I  sat  down  and 
waited.  "  It  will  begin  again,"  I  said  to  myself  with 
terror  unspeakable.  There  should  be  a  Prayer  in  the 
Litany — "  From  a  disordered  brain  :  and  from  the 
terror  of  a  disordered  brain.  Good  Lord  deliver  us  !  " 

But  it   came   not.     The    fresh   air   from   the   Park 


A  Miracle.  39 

fanned  my  cheek :  I  heard  the  laughing  children  down 
below  :  I  heard  the  words  of  command  as  the  Ser- 
geant drilled  his  men  :  I  found  that  I  could  think  and 
reason  :  the  prospects  of  my  immortal  soul  ceased  to 
loom  before  me  heavy  and  black.  Was  not  this  a 
miracle?  A  single  night  had  done  this.  A  single 
night  only  had  changed  me.  What  is  more,  I  have 
never  since  suffered  from  melancholia. 

Then,  with  hesitation  and  doubt,  I  dressed,  and 
opened  the  door  of  the  parlour.  My  cousin  ran  and 
caught  me  by  both  hands,  and  kissed  me  on  both 
cheeks. 

"Why,"  she  cried,  laughing — why  did  she  laugh? 
but  she  laughed  at  everything — "  the  medicine  works  ! 
Thine  eyes  are  bright — tell  me,  dear,  was  thy  sleep 
sound?  Thy  cheek  hath  already  a  touch  of  the  sum- 
mer rose — was  thy  sleep  peaceful  ?  Was  it  without 
bad  dreams?  And  thy  poor  head — it  is  better?  and 
thy  brain — it  is  clearer?  and  thy  heart — it  is  stout 
again  ?  "  She  made  no  pause  for  my  replies.  "  Oh,  I 
rejoice,  my  dear  !  To  be  sure,  I  expected  nothing 
less" — I  had  answered  not  one  word — "sit  down, 
now:  we  will  take  our  dish  of  chocolate."  Molly 
brought  it  that  moment,  foaming,  in  two  bowls. 
"  Here  are  toast  and  buttered  cakes.  Eat,  my  dear, 
and  drink,  and  then  we  will  talk.  You  must  long  to 
talk,  after  so  long  a  silence."  Indeed,  I  was  not  burn- 
ing to  talk.  It  was  enough  to  sit  and  listen  while  my 
cousin  talked. 

I  listened,  and  looked  round  the  room.     It  needed  ■ 
not  the  eye  of  a  plain  Quakeress  to  discover  that  this 


4<5  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

room  and  Its  tenant  were  clearly  followers  o/  the 
world's  fashions  and  pleasures.  There  was  the  harpsi- 
chord with  its  books  of  music  :  on  the  walls  pictures 
hung,  as  many  pictures  as  could  be  hung :  some  were 
oil  paintings  ;  some  were  coloured  drawings.  I  was 
never  tired  of  looking  at  these  pictures  :  for  the  most 
part  they  presented  rural  scenes — is  it  not  pleasant  to 
see,  and  to  recall,  the  village  green,  the  pond  with  the 
flock  of  ducks,  and  all  the  country  sights?  They 
presented  heads — studies,  my  cousin  called  them — 
groups  of  people,  interiors  of  churches,  men  in  taverns 
drinking — everything  that  you  can  think  of.  What 
harm  can  there  be  in  studying  such  pictures  ?  Why 
did  our  founder  prohibit  the  practice  of  Art?  Then 
there  were  books  on  shelves — not  serious  books,  but 
plays  and  poetry.  My  cousin  afterwards  encouraged 
me  to  read  them. 

While  I  listened  and  looked  about  me,  my  cousin 
continued  with  the  utmost  volubility,  talking  of  two 
or  three  subjects  at  the  same  time.  And  she  looked 
into  my  face  with  a  kind  of  exultant  satisfaction  be- 
cause her  prophecy  had  proved  correct,  and  the 
change  was  already  apparent.  When  melancholia, 
which  is  a  disease  of  the  imagination,  leaves  the  pa- 
tient, the  recovery  is  instantaneous.  But  the  terror — 
yes — the  terror  of  it  remains  until  the  dying  day. 

"  You  are  astonished,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  do 
not  use  the  Quaker  manner  of  speech,  nor  do  I  dress 
after  their  fashion,  nor  do  I  obey  their  rules  about 
music  and  pictures.  Know  then,  sweet  Nancy,  that  I 
joined  the  Friends  to  please  my  husband  ;  and  that  I 


A  Miracle.  4i 

left  them,  after  his  death,  to  please  myself.  I  do  but 
assume  the  dress  when  I  go  to  visit  thy  brother's 
house."  She  wore  a  very  fine  night-gown  of  pink 
sarsnet,  with  a  pink  ribbon  in  her  laced  cap.  Rings 
were  on  her  fingers,  certainly,  she  had  departed  very 
far  from  the  Quaker  rule.  "  I  have  not  told  you  of 
my  resignation  :  he  would  not  receive  me  if  he  knew  ; 
and  Nancy,  dear,"  she  took  my  hand  and  held  it,;*  my 
heart  bled  for  thee,  so  young,  so  beautiful,  condemned 
to  languish  in  obscurity,  or  to  endure  the  wooing  of 
some  sanctified  Yea  Verily.  Heavens,  my  dear!  if 
thy  mother  saw  thee,  this  morning — eyes  bright,  face 
clear,  she  would  forgive  this  deception  by  which  I 
have  rescued  thee,  and  by  which  I  hope  to  keep  thee 
for  awhile.  What  is  it,  after  all?  I  was  born  in  the 
Church  of  England.  I  was  grown-up  when  I  turned 
Quaker.  (Your  mother  would  be  amazed  to  mark  the 
difference.)  I  only  joined  the  Society  to  please  my 
Reuben.  For  his  sake  I  would  have  become  a  Mo- 
hammedan, had  he  wished  it.  (Your  eyes,  Nancy, 
are  like  lamps,  and  your  lips  like  rosebuds  !)  As  long 
as  he  lived  I  said  '  thee  '  instead  of  '  thou  '  and  '  you.' 
Oh !  the  pride  and  the  pretence  of  it !  While  he 
lived,  too,  I  dressed  always  in  his  fashion,  which  I  was 
happy  to  discover  is  not  unbecoming  to  a  fine  woman 
like  myself."  My  cousin  was  a  tall  and  handsome 
woman  with  large  eyes,  an  ample  cheek,  and  fullness 
of  figure.  "  Not  at  all  unbecoming  if  the  dress  is 
made  of  fine  materials."  Certainly  I  had  never  be- 
fore heard  talk  so  easy  and  so  voluble,  accompanied 
by  so    many  smiles   and  nods   and   little  gestures  of 


42  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

head  and  lips  and  hands.  "  My  dear,  I  was  never 
more  than  half  a  Quaker.  They  questioned  me  on 
my  admission.  Reuben,  though  a  Broadbrim,  was  as 
anxious  to  marry  me  as  if  he  had  been  a  simple 
Churchman.  That  was  why  I  loved  him — because  he 
loved  me  as  a  young  man  should.  So  he  told  me 
what  to  say,  and  they  received  me.  But  only  half  a 
Quaker,  ever.  I  kept  my  harpsichord  in  a  garret,  out 
of  the  way  :  I  used  to  go  secretly  to  St.  Paul's  to 
hear  the  anthem.  Oh  !  I  like  the  Friends  well  enough. 
They  are  charitable  to  the  poor,  but  they  are  stiff- 
necked  :  even  Reuben  believed  there  was  no  salva- 
tion except  in  his  sect :  and  thy  brother  Joseph 
believes  that  even  membership  does  not  insure  salva- 
tion. However,  there  is  some  safety  in  taking  a 
Quaker  for  a  husband  :  he  will  not  go  to  bed  drunk, 
nor  will  he  indulge  in  those — rovings — or  sallies — 
which  most  torment  a  woman's  heart." 

I  understood  very  little  of  this  long  discourse,  be- 
cause the  newness  of  everything  bewildered  me. 
However,  one  thing  at  least  was  plain  :  that  my 
cousin  had  me,  for  a  time,  in  her  keeping,  and  that 
many  other  new  things  were  going  to  happen. 

So  she  went  on  talking,  and  I  listening  and  looking 
about  me. 

"  Why,  my  Nancy,  the  gloom  has  gone  already.  It 
was  but  sulks,  I  doubt,  thou  saucy  girl!  Yet  it  must 
not  return.  The  cloud  hath  rolled  away — already  I 
see  the  sunshine  on  thy  brow."  She  patted  my 
cheek  softly.  She  was,  in  a  word,  one  of  those  women 
w^ho  would  gladly  see  all  their  friends  happy.     "  Why, 


A  Miracle.  43 

Nancy,  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time  that  neither  nun- 
nery nor  Meeting-house  was  designed  for  thee." 
What  did  she  mean  ?  "  Brother  Broadbrim  hath  no 
concern  with  this  soft  face,  with  those  rosy  lips,  with 
those  big  eyes,  with  this  velvet  cheek  which  hath  al- 
ready the  returning  rose — 'tis  now  the  time  of  roses  : 
thou  art  created  for  the  happiness  of  a  Man,  not  of  a 
Yea  Verily."  I  ought  to  have  remonstrated  against 
this  talk,  but,  indeed,  I  had  no  power.  "  Well :  we 
shall  show  thee  the  Wicked  World.  My  Lord  and 
Lady  Vanity  shall  see  the  sweetest  piece  of  Innocence 
ever  taken  into  the  Park.  I  say  the  Park,  my  dear, 
where  the  ladies  of  fashion  walk,  but  I  am  not  one  of 
them — although  I  go  as  fine  as  most — for  Reuben  left 
money.  I  am  not  one  of  them.  A  mere  tradesman's 
widow  who  married  a  Broadbrim — yet  his  hat  was  the 
only  fault  he  had — one  who  for  love  put  on  the  frock 
of  grey — I  say  that  a  tradesman's  widow  is  not  re- 
ceived by  these  ladies,  though  her  beauty  may  make 
them  tear  their  hair  for  mortification,  and  though  her 
dress  be  finer  than  theirs,  and  her  accomplishments 
better.  Well — I  mind  it  not — so  much  have  I  gotten 
from  the  Friends  that  I  regard  no  more  the  preten- 
sions of  rank,  and  am  afraid  to  stand  before  no  man — 
and  no  woman  either,  which  is  saying  more.  We  shall 
look  at  them  in  the  Park,  Nancy,  and  it  shall  not  be 
my  fault,  my  dear,  if  they  do  not  look  at  thee.  Al- 
ready thou  art  transformed :  the  thought  of  the  silent 

house  like  a  great  grave " 

Here  she  stopped  suddenly  and  sprang  to  her  feet, 
for  the  mere  mention  of  the  silent  house  recalled  to 


44  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

my  mind,  in  a  moment,  all  that  had  happened :  the 
gloomy  forebodings  of  everlasting  perdition,  Joseph's 
triumphant  proofs  that  no  one  should  presume  to 
hope,  the  lonely  brooding  over  those  sad  thoughts  in 
the  garden,  the  dreadful  day  when  I  stood  over  the 
black  water  of  the  pond,  my  thoughts  blacker  still  ; 
and  all  the  trouble  returned  to  my  eyes.  I  seemed  to 
hear  the  rustling  of  wings — the  return  of  Melancholia 
— I  turned  ashy  pale — I  fell  back  in  my  chair.  When 
I  recovered,  Molly  was  patting  my  hands  with  a  cold 
wet  sponge,  and  my  cousin  was  administering  smell- 
ing salts. 

"  Poor  lamb !  "  she  was  saying.  "  She  is  weaker 
than  I  thought.  Molly,  never  mention  the  house — 
never  speak  to  her  about  it.  We  must  keep  her 
thoughts  from  the  past." 

"  It  was  not  the  loneliness,"  said  Molly.  "  A  body 
may  bear  to  be  lonely  :  'twas  Master  Joseph  with  his 
everlasting  asking  who  could  be  saved.  Oh  !  they're 
hard  upon  her  with  their  Elected  and  their  damned — 
damned  for  nothing — as  a  body  may  say." 

"  Hush,  Molly  !     She  opens  her  eyes." 

So  I  sat  up,  and  my  cousin  went  on  talking,  looking 
anxiously  at  me  from  time  to  time.  I  think  she 
talked  faster  than  ever,  keeping  my  mind  fixed  upon 
the  new  things  to  which  she  was  introducing  me. 

"  When  we  are  in  the  world,  my  dear,  we  must  do 
as  the  world  does.  Lord  !  a  body  must  not  be  singu- 
lar. Therefore  you  will  dress  as  they  dress.  And  you 
must  speak  as  they  speak.  And  you  must  learn  the 
pretty  little  nothings,  the  graces,  the  pretences,  the 


A  Miracle.  45 

affectations  :  they  mean  nothing,  but  they  please  ;  and 
the  art  of  smiling  and  laughing — it  will  amuse  you  in- 
finitely for  a  while  to  be  a  lady  of  fashion.  And  I 
have  thought  of  a  great  moral  lesson  in  it — oh !  a 
most  useful  lesson.  In  the  Society  there  are  no  temp- 
tations for  a  lovely  maid  :  no  one  turns  her  head  with 
love  and  compliments,  flames  and  darts  and  burning 
hearts,  bosky  groves  and  laughing  Loves :  she  knows 
nothing  of  these  poetical  snares  which  catch  a  girl 
and  make  her  vain  and  conceited.  But,  my  Nancy, 
which  is  better- — to  meet  temptation  and  resist  it,  or 
never  to  be  tempted  at  all  ?  Think  how  meritorious 
it  is  to  resist  temptation." 

If  I  am  reproached  with  the  readiness  of  this  deser- 
tion of  my  own  people,  remember  that  I  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  resist,  to  question,  or  to  object.  The 
chief  emotions  in  my  mind  at  the  time  were  bewilder- 
ment amidst  these  new  surroundings,  a  newly  awak- 
ened curiosity,  and  an  ever-present  terror  lest  the 
clutch  of  the  demon — can  I  ever  cease  to  believe  that 
I  was  truly  Possessed  ? — should  again  seize  upon  me. 
But  of  resistance  I  was  quite  incapable.  I  knew  not, 
nor  did  my  cousin  know,  that  in  putting  off  the  Quaker 
garb  I  could  never  again  put  it  on.  I  knew  not,  nor 
did  she  know,  that  in  giving  up  their  manner  of  speech 
I  could  never  resume  it.  For  dress  and  speech  alike 
are  connected  with  that  time  of  Melancholia.  Even 
now,  after  more  than  twenty  years,  when  I  think  of 
the  silent  house  where  one  heard  nothing  but  the  tick- 
ing of  the  clock,  which  was  haunted  by  a  fearful  whis- 
per threatening  in   my   ears   everlasting   torment,  a 


46  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

shudder  seizes  me.  I  shake  and  tremble  :  for  a  little 
while  my  mind  is  clouded  :  for  a  brief  space  the  skies 
are  darkened,  and  I  feel  again,  as  I  felt  then,  that 
there  is  no  hope,  and  can  be  none,  for  me,  because  I 
am  not  one  of  the  few  Elect,  and  that  my  unhappy 
soul  is  included  among  the  innumerable  multitude  of 
those  for  whom  Christ  did  not  die. 


CHAPTER  in. 
The  Wicked  World. 

Then  did  my  cousin  address  herself  very  seriously 
to  the  task  of  making  me  observe,  and  imitate,  the 
fashions  of  the  world.  And  I  have  to  relate  how  what 
was  begun  only  as  an  experiment  or  a  medicine  proved 
in  the  end  to  be  a  necessary  condition  of  life  :  in  other 
words,  how  it  became  impossible  for  me  to  go  back  to 
my  old  way  of  life. 

First,  because  this  meant  one's  outward  appearance, 
we  engaged  upon  the  subject  of  dress.  To  me  there 
had-been  hitherto  but  two  colours  (except  those  with 
which  Nature  had  endowed  the  flowers) — namely,  grey 
and  drab :  the  men  dressed  in  the  latter,  the  women 
in  the  former.  Yet  colour,  and  the  discrimination  of 
colour,  came  to  me  as  by  instinct.  And  as  for  fash- 
ions— for  the  shape  of  a  mantle  or  a  sash  or  a  hat ; 
for  stuffs  of  silk  or  satin  ;  brocade  or  velvet ;  for  rib- 
bons, laces,  gloves,  embroidery,  and  such  gear,  it  was 
wonderful  in  the  eyes  of  my  instructress  to  mark  the 
rapid  progress  which  I  made.  Yet  I  ventured  some- 
times— not  every  day — more  feebly  to  protest  against 
giving  to  these  things  the  whole  attention  of  a  woman. 

"  Why,  Nancy,"  said  my  cousin  laughing,  "  what  is 
the  use  of  fine  clothes  ?     They  set  off  and  adorn  a  fine 


48  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

woman.  And  why  should  a  fine  woman  set  off  and 
adorn  her  person?  To  attract  the  men,  my  dear.  And 
why  should  she  wish  to  attract  the  men  ?  In  order  to 
gain  power  and  have  her  own  way.  The  men  believe 
they  rule  the  world.  Not  so.  The  women  rule  the 
men,  who  rule  the  world." 

One  need  not  believe  all  the  idle  nonsense  talked  by 
Isabel  in  her  light  and  careless  way,  which,  to  one  like 
myself,  was  wonderful.  Yet  there  is  (for  a  woman)  a 
happiness  (I  know  not  why)  in  the  mere  putting  on 
things  that  are  beautiful  and  becoming  ;  and  not  only 
in  wearing,  but  in  choosing  them  out  of  other  things 
beautiful  and  becoming  such  as  flowered  silks,  point 
lace,  and  the  like.  If  clothes  were  invented  only  for 
warmth,  a  blanket  and  a  leathern  girdle  would  be 
enough.  If  they  were  invented  to  show  the  figure — • 
but  why  should  we  wish  to  show  the  figure? — then 
hoops,  head-dresses,  sleeves,  and  many  other  things 
would  have  to  be  discarded.  The  figure  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  fashions :  if  one  were  shaped  like  a  pig 
the  fashions  might  continue.  If  the  figure  alone  were 
concerned  the  fashions  would  never  change.  But  all 
human  creatures  love  change ;  therefore  the  fashions 
change  :  and  all  women,  if  they  can  afford  to  buy  them, 
delight  in  stuffs  beautiful  to  look  at  and  soft  to  handle. 

In  a  word,  I  proved  in  this  respect  an  apt  pupil, 
and  speedily  learned  almost  as  much  as  my  cousin 
could  teach  me.  And  after  a  week  or  two  you  might 
have  seen  me,  who  had  been  clad  in  plain  Quakers' 
grey  all  my  life,  now  sitting  in  the  shops  of  Ludgate 
Hill  or  Cheap,  while  the  complaisant  draper  and  his 


The  Wicked  World.  49 

patient  apprentices  brought  out  their  choicest  fabrics, 
such  as  they  do  not  use  to  set  in  the  windows,  and 
learnedly  discoursed  for  our  instruction  upon  the  new- 
est fashions  and  their  changes. 

Another  point  was  the  manner  of  speech.  It  would 
seem  easy  to  change  from  "  thee  "  to  "  thou  "  or  "  you  " 
when  one  is  not  familiar,  or  to  say  "yes"  and  "  no" 
instead  of  "yea"  and  "nay";  yet  I  confess  that  it 
cost  me  a  great  deal  of  practice  before  I  spoke  easily 
in  the  way  of  the  world.  Happily,  a  woman  is  not 
called  upon  to  use  the  oaths  and  appeals  to  the  Deity 
which  are  commonly  the  custom  with  men  :  thus  I  had 
nothing  to  learn  except  (which  I  did  never  learn)  such 
familiarity  with  these  words  as  might  make  them  fall 
unnoticed  on  my  ears. 

My  cousin  was  anxious  on  the  score  of  an  easy  or  a 
graceful  carriage.  It  must  be  owned  that  the  Quak- 
ers in  this  respect  are  greatly  to  seek  :  yet  among  them 
the  stiffness  of  their  carriage  lends  to  those  who  are 
advanced  in  years  a  certain  dignity.  It  is  of  the 
younger  men  and  women  that  one  would  complain. 
I  think,  for  instance,  with  a  kind  of  shame  of  my 
brother  Joseph,  who  moved  and  stood  as  if  he  was 
of  a  verity  made  of  wood  and  jointed  like  a  puppet. 
"  My  dear,"  said  Isabel,  "  at  Dartford  one  could  hear 
the  joints  creak." 

For  the  sake  of  grace  I  must  needs  learn  dancing. 
"  There  is  nothing,"  said  my  cousin,  "  that  so  takes 
the  stiffness  out  of  the  limbs.  The  Society  of  Friends 
would  make  a  woman  believe  that  she  hath  no  limbs 
and  is  nothing  but  a  head  on  a  grey  frock.     I  should 


5°  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

like,  my  dear,  to  give  you  a  wooden  hoop  and  make 
you  run  in  the  Park  every  day — but  it  is  a  censorious 
world.     We  will  learn  to  dance." 

By  this  time  I  was  quite  ready  to  accept  without 
question  whatever  regimen  might  be  prescribed  for 
me.  Nor  did  I  stop  to  inquire  or  to  consider  what 
would  be  my  brother's  wrath  should  he  discover  that 
I  had  learned  to  dance.  To  dance  !  Was  there  any- 
thing which  filled  the  heart  of  the  Quaker  with  greater 
horror  than  the  spectacle  of  young  men  and  maidens 
dancing — hand  in  hand — round  the  ring — setting  to 
each  other,  beating  time  with  their  feet :  with  curtsies 
and  inclinations:  singing  as  they  danced?  All  they 
knew  was  the  rude,  coarse  wake  and  village  dance,  not 
the  courtly,  graceful,  stately  dance  that  my  cousin 
taught  me. 

One  who  has  been  cut  off  from  the  innocent  plea- 
sures of  the  world  may  well  become,  in  a  manner,  in- 
toxicated with  them  when  they  are  at  length  placed 
within  her  reach.  I  became  greedy  of  everything, 
and  of  dancing  among  the  rest.  The  movement  of 
the  body  in  harmony  with  the  music :  the  expression 
by  the  limbs  of  what  music  meant :  the  interpretation 
of  courtesy,  respect,  reverence,  affection,  gracefulness 
by  corresponding  gestures  and  steps  was  a  thing  to  me 
so  wholly  unexpected  and  so  new  that  I  could  not  but 
ask  for  more. 

I  learned,  as  well,  to  laugh.  Yes :  strange  to  say, 
the  power  of  laughing  came  to  me  unsolicited  and 
untaught.  I  cannot  tell  you  when  first  I  laughed,  or 
why.     I  learned  to  laugh,  as  a  duckling  learns  to  sw[m^ 


The  Wicked  World,  5^ 

by  observing  others  laugh.  When  one  bcghis  to 
laugh,  one  finds  a  thousand  things  to  laugh  at  :  unex- 
pected turns  :  the  astonishment  of  some  one  :  some- 
thing said  mal-a-propos ;  something  said  unwarily : 
the  accidental  discoveiy  of  a  little  secret.  The  diffi- 
culty is  to  find  out,  not  why  one  should  laugh,  but 
why  one  did  not  always  laugh.  If  we  laughed  when 
Molly  tripped  on  the  carpet  and  fell  down  with  the 
dish  of  sausages,  why  did  not  my  brother  Joseph  laugh 
when  a  similar  accident  happened  at  his  table?  I 
only  note  this  trifling  point  because  I  desire  you  to 
understand  the  great  and  wonderful  transformation 
which  my  cousin  brought  about. 

I  have  said  that  my  cousin's  rooms  were  covered 
Avith  pictures,  upon  which  I  gazed  with  a  pleasure  al- 
ways new.  Most  of  these  pictures  are  now  hanging 
on  the  walls  of  my  own  house  :  yet,  after  so  many 
years,  the  sight  of  them  still  affords  delight  to  me,  and 
in  each  one  I  discover  always  some  fresh  beauty.  In 
some  of  them  there  are  spiritual  heights  which  are  dis- 
covered by  long  contemplation,  when  the  soul  is 
lifted  to  the  level  of  the  picture.  It  seems  to  me, 
thinking  over  all  that  I  have  read  and  seen  and  ex- 
perienced, that  there  are  times  when  the  painter  or 
the  poet  describes  or  paints  things  far  beyond  his  own 
reach  of  mind  :  there  is,  for  instance,  a  divinity,  some- 
times, in  the  face  of  Virgin  or  Saint  as  represented  in 
certain  pictures  which  the  painter  himself  could  never 
perceive  or  portray.  Therefore  I  say  that  the  soul 
must  be  lifted  to  the  level  of  such  a  picture  before  it 
can  convey  its  message.     Why,  then,  have  my  former 


52  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

friends  forbidden  paintings  ?  Because,  I  suppose,  the 
founder  of  the  sect  was  too  ignorant  to  know  what  a 
picture  is,  or  what  high  thoughts  may  be  suggested 
by  a  picture. 

Not  only  did  my  cousin  possess  these  pictures  in 
frames  fitted  to  the  panels  of  her  wainscotting,  but  she 
had  also  portfolios  full  of  prints  and  engravings,  some 
of  them  most  exquisite ;  some,  it  is  true,  of  the  earth, 
earthy  (which  one  could  pass  over).  In  addition  she 
could  herself  draw  very  dexterously  in  pencil  outline, 
which  she  would  afterwards  fill  in  with  colour.  Her 
genius  lay  in  drawing  figures :  thus  she  drew  the 
soldiers  marching  out  of  St.  James's  Palace:  the  fine 
ladies  in  the  Park:  the  beaux  attending  them:  the 
divine  and  the  lawyer :  and  the  people  in  the  street — 
the  men  and  women  who  walk  all  day  long  about 
every  street  carrying  everything  that  a  house  can  want 
and  bawling  their  w^ares  at  the  top  of  the  voice.  Here 
are  her  drawings  before  me.  I  remember  every  one  : 
the  bandbox  man  with  his  bandboxes  of  every  shape 
and  every  colour,  the  man  covered  up  and  almost 
hidden  by  his  pile  of  baskets;  the  man  who  offered  to 
mend  your  bellows,  the  man  who  sold  brickdust,  the 
woman  with  the  cats'-meat,  the  girl  who  would  mend 
your  rush-buttomed  chair,  the  man  with  the  brooms, 
the  knife-terror,  the  lavender  girl,  the  boy  with  the 
matches,  the  old  clothes  man,  the  Turk  who  sold  the 
slippers,  the  sandman,  the  strawberry-girl,  and  the 
sweep.  They  are  all  before  me,  drawn  to  the  life. 
Why  should  these  things  be  forbidden  ?  What  sinful 
emotion  is  excited  in  the  mind  by  the  picture  of  the 


The  Wicked  World.  53 

knife-grinder?  What  by  the  picture  of  the  straw- 
berry-girl ? 

Among  the  pictures  were  figured  certain  marble 
statues.  Before  one  of  them  my  cousin  held  me. 
"  Nancy,"  she  said,  "  this  figure  is  the  sweetest  dream 
of  beauty  ever  put  into  marble.  Learn — for  I  am  sure 
you  do  not  know  already — that  the  type  of  perfection, 
whether  of  Art,  or  of  Learning,  or  of  Holiness,  is  the 
human  figure,  and  the  female  figure.  The  curving 
lines  which  artists  love  are  taken  by  them  to  repre- 
sent the  highest  and  most  perfect  attainment  in  every- 
thing. This  form  is  the  soul,  blessed  and  purified  ;  or 
it  is  Song  at  its  noblest :  it  is  the  Muse  of  this  or  of 
that.  Regard  it  as  a  symbol,  and  ask  only  how  far 
the  figure  corresponds  with  the  ideal."  But  this  les- 
son I  learned  gradually,  and  not  in  a  single  day.  To 
understand  these  things  is  to  understand  that  ancient 
art  of  which  the  connoisseurs  speak  and  write  with 
such  enthusiasm. 

Then  Isabel  showed  me  her  books — she  had  a  case 
full  of  them. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  she  went  on,  "  that  the 
finest  invention  of  man  has  been  the  book  which  por- 
trays the  sufferings  of  imaginary  people.  In  reading 
of  them  we  forget  ourselves:  and  though  we  boil  with 
indignation  we  are  restrained  by  the  knowledge  that 
nothing  is  real.  So,  my  dear,  we  will  to-day,  if  you 
please,  begin  the  study  of  that  most  unfortunate  of 
puppets,  the  real — unreal,  imaginary — veritable,  hero- 
ine, Clarissa." 

In  this  immortal  book  the  wickedness  of  man  is  so 


54  A  Foontain  Sealed. 

unmistakably  held  up  to  execration,  and  the  unhappy 
victim  of  a  relentless  passion  is  so  movingly  depicted 
that  one  rises  from  its  perusal  with  a  heart  strength- 
ened for  virtue  and  religion.  I  confess  that  to  me 
Clarissa  is  a  real  woman  of  flesh  and  blood.  And  to 
think  that  this  book,  with  all  other  works  of  imag- 
ination which  deal  with  the  passions  and  sins  of  men 
and  women,  should  be  prohibited  by  the  Society  of 
Friends ! 

After  reading  "  Clarissa  "  we  exchanged  novels  for 
poetry.  First  my  cousin  introduced  me  to  portions 
of  Shakspere,  Milton,  Dryden,  Pope,  and  others.  She 
read  these  portions  aloud.  Many  women,  I  think, 
would  do  well  to  study  the  art  of  reading  aloud.  My 
cousin  read  very  well,  and  after  study  in  the  true 
modulation  of  the  voice  and  with  gestures  appropri- 
ate to  every  emotion,  she  possessed  a  sweet  voice  and 
read  with  much  feeling.  It  is  in  the  reading  of  fine 
poetry  that  a  generous  heart  most  readily  betrays 
itself.  As  she  read  she  would  stop  to  say,  "  Listen, 
Nancy — here  is  a  noble  thought — this  is  sweet  and 
tender — this  is  a  passage  that  women  would  do  well 
to  carry  about  in  their  minds  .  .  .  Here  is  a  vivid 
description.  One  can  hear  the  clanking  of  the  armour 
.  .  .  Here  is  a  fine  contempt  for  things  base  and  low. 
Can  one  hear  such  sentiments  at  Meeting?  This  poet 
is  all  for  giving  up  everything :  our  old  friends  are  all 
for  getting  what  they  can — every  man  for  himself, 
whether  it  is  a  seat  in  heaven  or  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  They  forbid  the  poets.  Why?  Because, 
they  say,  some  poetry  is  not  fit  for  a  virtuous  woman 


The  Wicked  World.  55 

to  read.  Then  they  may  as  well  forbid  a  walk  in  the 
streets,  where,  to  be  sure,  the  things  said  are  far  worse 
than  any  poet  has  ever  written.  No,  my  dear,  the 
same  spirit  which  forbade  poetry  also  forbade  music 
and  painting.  It  is  a  narrow  and  an  ignorant  spirit, 
my  dear,  which  we  have  done  well  to  put  away." 

One  must  not  forget  the  power  of  music.  Was  not 
my  soul  uplifted  a  thousand  times? — yea,  clean  carried 
out  of  itself  into  heights  filled  with  blissful  dreams 
and  soft  airs,  by  my  cousin's  playing?  She  knew  all 
kinds  of  music — soft  and  gentle  :  loud  and  martial : 
tender,  so  that  the  heart  yearned  after  something 
unknown  :  meditative,  sorrowful.  Much  of  what  she 
played  was  music  taken  from  Masses  composed  for  the 
Roman  service :  that  service  which  I  had  been  taught 
to  believe  was  all  superstition  and  treachery  and  de- 
ceit. Yet  the  music  was  unspeakably  moving.  While 
my  cousin  played  I  sat  beside  her,  my  head  on  my 
hand,  seeing  nothing,  all  my  senses  rapt  by  those 
sweet  strains. 

Why — why — why  —  have  the  Friends  closed  this 
avenue,  this  gate  of  Heaven  ?  Eye  hath  not  seen  the 
glories  of  the  world  to  come,  but  surely  by  means 
of  music  the  soul  may  be  wafted  upwards  and  so 
be  vouchsafed  a  glimpse  through  the  Pearly  Gates. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  first  morning  when  we  heard 
the  music  in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  church  itself 
amazed  me  :  the  tombs  of  the  Kings  and  of  the  great 
men  of  the  country  filled  me  with  emotion  :  these 
were  the  people — I  had  never  thought  them  real  before 
I  saw  their  tombs — who  were  set  upon  thrones  and 


5^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

bidden  to  resist  temptation  not  offered  to  lesser  men  ; 
to  be  great  and  good  and  wise— for  the  sake  of  their 
people.  Well :  all  the  people — kings  and  paupers, 
wise  or  foolish,  good  or  bad,  great  or  little — the 
Church  receives  them  all.  The  Church  receives  them 
all.  And  our  little  sect — our  following  small  and  nar- 
row— refuses  them  all.  The  Church  receives  them  all  : 
this  building  so  wonderful  in  its  height  and  length  and 
in  the  beauty  of  its  pillars  and  its  carvings  stands  for 
the  whole  Church  of  Christ  and  is  a  symbol  of  the 
Church  of  Christ :  and  it  receives  all — all — all  within 
its  walls.  Then,  while  I  thought  these  things,  the 
sweet  pure  voices  of  the  boys — they  stood  for  the 
angels — rose  up  and  floated  over  our  heads  and  rolled 
about  the  roof  and  the  arches  and  the  aisles;  and 
after  the  anthem  the  voice  of  him  who  prayed  was  like 
a  whisper  to  us  who  stood  outside  under  the  tran- 
sept. So  great  was  the  contrast  between  the  univer- 
sal Motherhood  of  the  Church  of  England  and  the 
straitness  of  my  sect  that  my  former  opinions — all 
that  were  left— fell  from  me  as  a  mantle  falls  from  the 
shoulders.  Come  what  might  come,  I  would  hence- 
forth, I  resolved,  follow  a  creed  which  allowed  me  to 
believe  in  the  goodness  and  the  love  of  the  Lord. 

*'  Child !  "  my  cousin  cried  when  I  told  her  these 
things.  "  What  is  this?  They  will  surely  say  that  it 
was  my  doing." 

**  Dear  Isabel !  thou  art  all  goodness  to  me.  But, 
indeed,  I  can  no  longer  remain  in  the  Society  of 
Friends." 

Here  I  must  stop.    My  education  (or  my  transfor- 


The  Wicked  World.  57 

mation)  was  now  complete.  Look  at  me  at  the  begin- 
ing  of  this  chapter.  In  dress,  in  speech,  in  carriage, 
a  Quaker  among  Quakers :  my  mind,  except  for  the 
narrow  creed  of  that  sect,  empty,  and  ready  for  the 
possession  of  any  wandering  devils  who  might  be  per- 
mitted to  enter.  Ignorant  of  the  world :  ignorant  of 
music,  painting,  singing,  dancing:  ignorant  of  manners. 
In  all  these  things  my  cousin  was  able  to  effect  a  com- 
plete change  principally  because  she  found  me  at  a 
time  when  I  was  weak  and  humbled,  and  above  all 
things  anxious  never  to  look  back. 

As  I  said  above,  my  cousin  did  not  understand  that 
in  doing  all  this  for  me  she  was  making  it  impossible 
for  me  to  return  to  the  old  life.  Not  even  the  memory 
of  my  mother  could  send  me  back  to  a  sect  where  I 
found  no  hope — or  if  any,  no  more  than  a  struggling 
ray  of  light  in  the  darkness  scarcely  visible.  Let  me 
live  under  the  wings  of  the  Church  which  admits  all, 
as  the  Abbey  buries  all,  within  its  walls.  Here  lie 
saint  and  sinner :  sinful  King  and  innocent  Queen, 
martyr  and  murderess — the  Church  admits  them  all. 
"Come,"  she  cries.  "All  ye  who  have  lived.  Here 
there  is  hope  for  all.  Lie  down  and  rest  and  trust." 
And  so,  as  John  Bunyan  journeyed  through  the  Dark 
Valley  to  the  Hills  beyond,  I  went  through  all  those 
agonies  of  terror  and  found  myself  at  last  standing  on 
the  slopes  of  the  Hills  Beautiful. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  First  Meeting. 

You  have  heard  from  Lord  de  Lys  how  tradition 
still  attaches  to  a  house  in  St.  James's  Place  concern- 
ing  a  certain  Person  and  a  certain  lady.  It  cannot  be 
more  than  a  garbled  and  mangled  version  of  the  truth. 
Not  one  of  the  persons  chiefly  concerned  would  ever, 
I  believe,  speak  publicly  of  this  episode.  Not  Cap- 
tain Sellinger ;  not  the  Corporal,  who  was  afterwards 
killed  in  action  ;  not  my  cousin,  who  died  of  smallpox 
a  year  after  this  event ;  not  Dr.  Mynsterchamber,  who 
went  away  under  circumstances  you  shall  learn,  and 
no  doubt  is  long  since  dead  ;  not  Molly,  who  remains 
with  me  still ;  not  Mr.  Robert  Storey,  who  shortly 
afterwards  fell  into  misfortune  and  the  Fleet  Prison, 
In  whatever  version  was  spread  abroad,  I  make  no 
doubt  that  I  was  depicted  as  a  woman  of  the  basest 
sort,  practising  the  allurements  of  Delilah,  decked 
with  fine  raiment  and  jewels,  costly  head-tire  and 
wanton  looks  :  in  short,  such  a  woman  as  is  described 
by  the  Wise  King  in  his  Book  of  Proverbs.  You, 
however,  who  have  read  so  far  will  understand  that  a 
young  gentlewoman  with  such  a  history  as  mine — for 
which  reason  I  have  written  what  precedes — formerly 
a  Quakeress,  and  of  the  strictest  kind,  daughter  of  a 


The  First  Meeting;.  59 

wealthy  manufacturer,  instructed  in  none  of  the  arts 
of  allurement  and  only  the  simplest  graces  and  accom- 
plishments, would  be  unable — if  she  were  basely  to 
wish — to  attempt  those  arts. 

This  is  a  love  story  :  for  my  own  part  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  any  others  are  worth  reading :  I  am  indeed 
sincerely  sorry  for  all  poor  women  who  have  no  love 
story  of  their  own.  One  must  not  magnify  the  pas- 
sion of  love,  but  certainly  there  is  no  other  passion 
that  plays  so  important  a  part  in  this  transitory  life, 
especially  for  my  sex.  I  say  that  this  is  a  love  story : 
and  I  declare,  further,  that  if  any  young  man  (what- 
ever his  rank)  bestowed  upon  me  his  affections  in  the 
springtime  of  my  days,  when  I  possessed  some  charms 
of  face  and  form,  it  was  not  on  account  of  any  allure- 
ments or  snares,  but  solely  on  account  of  those  per- 
fections which  a  generous  and  noble  soul  (out  of  his 
own  nobility)  imagined  in  a  woman  all  imperfections. 
The  more  noble  the  lover  the  deeper  and  the  stronger 
is  his  love,  the  more  heavenly  becomes  the  woman  of 
his  imagination.  Such  a  young  man  sees  in  the  wo- 
man he  loves  a  Living  Well  of  Virtue,  a  Sealed  Foun- 
tain, a  soul  all  beautiful  within  and  without.  Happy 
is  the  woman  who  is  loved  by  so  great  a  heart ;  for 
even  before  her  death  she  may  be  led  upward  so  as  to 
become  an  angel  of  heaven. 

My  cousin  spent  an  incredible  amount  of  pains  upon 
me  for  three  months — namely,  May,  June,  and  July  of 
the  year  1760.  During  that  time  she  transformed  me 
into  a  woman  of  the  fashion — that  is  to  say,  not  a 
great  Court  lady,  but  a  woman  who  dressed  like  the 


6o  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

rest,  spoke  like  the  rest,  and  took  the  same  pleasure 
in  the  things  that  delight  all  other  women.  Of  friends 
we  had  not  many,  which  afterwards  proved  an  ad- 
vantage to  us.  The  other  occupants  of  the  house — 
namely,  Corporal  Bates,  of  the  Horse  Guards,  and  his 
family  in  the  garrets,  Captain  Sellinger  on  the  second 
floor,  and  Dr.  Mynsterchamber  on  the  ground  floor, 
we  knew,  but  had  little  intercourse  with  them.  So 
much  was  I  changed  that  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
the  Society  of  PViends.  Only  to  remember  the  house 
at  Dartford  made  me  tremble  and  shiver.  I  had 
ceased  going  to  First  Day  Meeting,  arnd  had  even  be- 
gun to  attend  the  services  at  St.  James's,  Piccadilly, 
with  my  cousin,  who  had  a  pew  in  that  noble  church. 
As  for  singing,  painting,  reading  poetry,  making  music, 
embroidery,  fine  dress,  and  adornment  of  all  kinds  I  was 
now  as  fond  of  these  things  as  my  cousin  could  desire. 

It  was  on  Wednesday,  August  17,  that  the  event 
happened  which  was  destined  to  change  the  whole  of 
my  life.  At  half-past  seven  in  the  evening  I  was  re- 
turning home  from  evening  prayers  at  St.  James's. 
It  was  a  sermon  day,  which  made  the  service  longer. 
I  was  accompanied  by  Molly,  who  walked  behind  me, 
carrying  my  prayer-book.  Many  other  ladies  were 
also  going  home  after  prayers,  either  in  their  coaches 
or  accompanied  by  footmen  carrying  sticks,  or,  like 
me,  protected  only  by  a  woman-servant. 

At  such  a  time  and  in  such  a  place  one  considers 
that  there  is  no  danger  save  from  some  gentleman 
whose  attentions  are  uninvited  or  from  some  auda- 
cious pickpocket :  who  could  look  for  danger  at  the 


The  Eifst  Meeting:.  6i 

Court  end  of  the  town,  in  the  most  polite  streets,  with 
numbers  of  passengers,  and  in  broad  daylight  ?  A 
gentlewoman  may,  surely,  go  to  evening  prayers  and 
return  home  without  fear  of  molestation  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  King's  Palace.  There  is,  however,  another 
kind  of  danger  to  which  one  is  exposed  in  every  part 
of  the  town.  One  thinks  little  of  it :  one  cannot  guard 
against  it :  yet  it  always  threatens  :  it  is  always  pos- 
sible :  it  can  never  be  removed,  so  long  as  the  world 
continues  to  drink  rum,  punch,  port-wine,  or  beer. 

However,  being  tranquil  as  to  this  or  any  other 
danger,  and  seeing  many  ladies  and  persons  of  respect- 
able appearance  in  the  streets,  I  walked  along  reflect- 
ing on  the  discourse  which  the  congregation  had  just 
heard.  It  was  one  of  the  kind  which  the  Church  of 
England  loves  :  the  preacher  had  an  argument  which 
he  expounded,  followed  up,  and  proved  with  a  great 
display  of  scholarship  and  with  that  appearance  of 
authority  which  the  pulpit,  the  ecclesiastical  wig,  the 
black  gown,  and  a  full  voice  also  contributed  to  his 
discourse,  I  know  not,  now,  what  he  advanced  or 
proved.  There  was  nothing  of  himself  in  it :  no  ''ex- 
periences," no  claim  to  the  special  working  of  the  Lord 
in  his  soul :  nothing  individual :  he  spoke  as  one  in  a 
collective  Church,  as  if  the  individual  shared  with  all 
the  rest  the  gifts  and  graces  of  the  Church,  which  re- 
ceives all  alike,  treats  all  alike  :  gives  the  same  promise 
to  all  alike.  Nor  did  this  preacher,  as  my  brother 
Joseph  was  wont  to  do,  take  a  text  here  and  a  text 
there  and  lay  them  side  by  side.  Not  so  :  he  showed 
us  what  each  text  means  in  the  original  Greek,  and 


62  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

what  it  means  with  reference  to  the  passages  that  go 
before  and  the  passages  which  follow  after.  Such  a 
discourse  to  a  person  of  my  experience  was  like  an  in- 
vitation to  rest  and  be  happy  in  an  Ark  of  Refuge. 

We  accomplished  our  short  walk  through  Jermyn 
Street  and  down  St.  James's  Street  in  perfect  safety 
until  we  reached  the  corner  of  St.  James's  Place. 
When  we  turned  into  that  very  quiet  place  we  were 
met  full  face  to  face  by  two  gentlemen  walking  arm- 
in-arm,  or  rather,  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

They  both  wore  the  King's  scarlet.  One  of  them  I 
knew  very  well.  He  was  the  Honourable  Robert 
Sellinger,  younger  brother  of  the  Viscount  de  Lys, 
Captain  in  his  Majesty's  Horse-Guards.  He  was  at 
this  time  not  more  than  five-and-twenty :  a  tall  and 
proper  person,  upon  whom  the  King's  uniform  sat  be- 
comingly :  all  women  I  am  sure,  like  to  see  a  young 
man  in  a  handsome  uniform.  As  yet  the  gout  which 
afterwards  cruelly  afflicted  him,  swelling  his  joints, 
covering  his  face  with  unsightly  blotches,  crippling  his 
feet,  had  not  appeared.  He  was,  however,  so  to  speak, 
inviting  and  preparing  the  way  for  it  :  this  he  did  by 
drinking  too  much  port-wine  or  rum  punch,  so  that 
already  his  neck  was  too  thick  and  his  cheek  too 
flushed,  for  so  young  a  man.  In  the  morning,  how- 
ever, there  was  no  better  company  :  he  was  as  well- 
bred  a  man  as  is  expected  in  one  of  his  rank :  he  had 
some  knowledge  of  books :  he  was  of  the  kindliest 
disposition :  and  he  discoursed  pleasantly.  In  ap- 
pearance I  say  that  he  was  tall :  his  nose  was  long 
and  narrow:  bis  eyes  had  a  constant  light  as  of  sun- 


The  First  Meeting.  6^ 

shine  in  them  :  his  Hps  were  ever  ready  for  a  smile. 
To  me  and  to  my  cousin  he  was  attentive  :  he  visited 
us  frequently:  he  walked  with  us  in  the  Park  :  he  told 
us  about  the  old  King  in  St.  James's  Palace  and  the 
Princes  in  Leicester  Square,  and  he  paid  me  every  day 
some  new  and  pleasing  compliment.  But  he  did  not 
make  love  to  me,  for  which  I  am  now  thankful :  in- 
deed, the  poor  man,  who  had  but  this  one  fault,  en- 
tertained love  towards  the  bottle  as  his  only  mistress. 
Strange,  that  a  man  of  parts  and  judgment  should 
every  night  voluntarily  fuddle  himself!  Why  did  he 
do  it  ?  Why  do  men,  our  superiors  in  strength  of  mind 
as  well  as  of  body,  choose  to  deaden  their  finer  senses 
for  the  sake  of — I  know  not  what — say,  a  few  drops  of 
sweetness,  more  or  less? 

Had  Captain  Sellinger  been  sober  this  evening  I  am 
certain  that  nothing  would  have  happened.  Sober, 
he  respected  me  and  all  other  women ;  drunk,  he  re- 
garded all  women  alike,  just  as  he  regarded  (I  sup- 
pose) the  impudent  hussies  in  the  Park,  whom  I  have 
seen  the  gentlemen,  with  a  disgusting  familiarity,  take 
by  the  chin.  This  evening,  however,  he  was  over- 
come, and  he  walked  with  difficulty,  holding  up  his 
companion  and  being  held  up  by  him. 

At  the  corner  of  St.  James's  Place,  I  say,  we  came 
face  to  face  with  this  pair,  insomuch  that  there  was  no 
way  of  avoiding  them  ;  nor  would  they  sufTer  me  to 
take  the  wall  and  pass,  but,  in  a  manner,  spread  them- 
selves and  barred  the  way. 

"  Captain  Sellinger,"  I  said,  "will  you  let  me  pass?" 

"Jack,"  he  replied,  speaking  thickly,  "'tis  Nancy — 


64  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

divine  Nancy.  She  hath  been  at  her  devotions — on 
her  lovely  knees.  Jack,  let  us  take  her  to  Maryle- 
bone  Gardens  to  finish  the  evening." 

"  T'other  bottle,"  the  other  man  replied  still  more 
thickly.     He  understood  nothing. 

"  Let  me  pass,  Captain  Sellinger."  But  he  still 
barred  the  way. 

"  Thou  shalt  take  the  maid,  Jack,"  he  continued. 
"  Molly  will  do  for  thee.  Hold  up,  man — and  I  will 
take  the  mistress.  Call  a  coach — call  a  coach,  Molly, 
for  thy  mistress  and  Jack  and  me." 

So  he  went  on  in  his  tipsy  way,  about  the  lovely 
Nancy,  the  divine  Nancy,  and  such  nonsense  as  makes 
me  ashamed  to  set  it  down  except  to  show  that  he 
knew  not  what  he  said. 

"Captain  Sellinger,"  I  said,  "you  have  been  drink- 
ing, otherwise  you  would  not  behave  in  this  strange 
way.  Please  suffer  me  to  pass.  For  shame,  Sir ;  for 
shame! " 

"T'other  bottle,"  murmured  his  companion,  drop- 
ping his  head  upon  his  chest. 

"  You  shall  pass,"  he  said,  "  in  my  arms,  in  a  chariot 
— in  a  chair — "  he  hardly  knew  what  he  said — "  to 
Marylebone  Gardens.  There  we  will  dance — you 
have  never  yet  danced  with  me,  fair  Nancy.  We  will 
afterwards  take  supper — supper,  and  have — eh,  Jack? 
— t'other  bottle." 

"  T'other  bottle,"  the  other  gentleman  replied ;  but 
his  glassy  eye  showed  that  he  at  least  would  not 
arrive  at  that  stage,  having  certainly  worked  his  way 
already  through  as  many  bottles  as  he  could  hold. 


The  First  Meeting.  65 

"  Let  me  go,  Captain  Sellinger ! "  I  cried,  as  he 
caught  hold  of  my  hand. 

"We  will  go  together,"  he  repeated,  firm  in  his 
drunken  mood,  "  to  Marylebone  Gardens.  The  women 
shall  expire — by  Gad  ! — with  envy  and  spite — bless 
their  hearts  !  And  the  men  shall  burst — hang  'em  ! — 
with  envy.  We  will  show  them  Venus  herself — Venus 
herself— fair  Queen  of  Love.  Willy-nilly,  fair  Nancy, 
needs  must  thou  show  thy  face  at  Marybone." 

"  Nay,  Captain  Sellinger.  this  passes  endurance. 
You  are  so  tipsy  that  you  are  not  yourself.  You 
know  not  what  you  say.  Will  you  let  me  go,  or  must 
I  force  my  way  through?" 

Now,  what  he  did  I  know  not.  He  seized  my  hand, 
he  tried  to  kiss  my  cheek.  I  know  not,  indeed,  what 
he  did ;  because  to  be  accosted  in  this  manner  in  such 
a  place  as  St.  James's  Street  by  two  drunken  gentle- 
men terrifies  a  girl  out  of  her  senses.  And  to  be  told 
that^  willy-nilly,  she  must  go  with  these  two  gentle- 
men— almost  unable  to  stand — to  a  place  of  public 
resort  disturbed  me  so  much  that  I  can  hardly  tell 
what  happened.  However,  I  cried  out  for  help,  that 
is  quite  certain,  and  Molly  screamed  and  pulled  me 
back,  and  stood  in  front  of  me  :  and  the  poor  Captain 
was  so  fuddled  that  he  hardly  knew  the  maid  from 
the  mistress,  which,  I  suppose,  was  the  reason  why 
Molly  boxed  his  ears.  And  then — then — this  was 
the  first  meeting — there  came  running  across  the  street 
two  gentlemen,  both  young,  the  elder  not  more  than 
one  or  two  and  twenty,  and  the  other  two  years  or  so 
younger.     They  drew  their  swords.     "  Madam,"  said 


66  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

the  elder,  with  great  resolution  in  his  eyes  and  in  his 
voice,  "have  no  fear,  we  will  make  a  way  for  you." 

So  saying  he  stepped  before  me,  drawing  his  sword 
and  holding  it  before  him,  pointed  at  the  poor  tipsy 
Captain. 

The  other — the  younger  man — stepped  to  the  right 
hand  of  his  friend,  and  also  drew  his  sword  quickly, 
standing  beside  the  first,  yet  a  little  in  advance,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  he  was  defending  his  friend,  so 
watchfully  did  he  hold  his  weapon.  I  noticed,  be- 
sides, that  the  two  young  men  were  richly  dressed  : 
the  elder,  who  was  the  taller  and  stouter,  in  scarlet, 
like  Captain  Sellinger,  with  broad  gold  lace  on  his  hat 
and  beautiful  lace  at  his  wrists  and  neck.  His  sash 
was  also  trimmed  with  gold  lace.  His  friend,  on  the 
other  hand,  wore  a  blue  coat  with  white  facings,  also 
decorated  with  gold  lace.  I  was  so  ignorant  at  the 
time  that  I  did  not  recognise  the  uniform  of  the 
Royal  Navy. 

Now  at  sight  of  the  drawn  swords  the  Captain 
showed  an  immediate  and  remarkable  change  of  de- 
meanour. All  the  soldier  awakened  in  his  breast ;  he 
stepped  back,  leaving  hold  of  his  friend,  who  fell  to 
the  ground  ;  he  stood  upright  and  alert  :  he  drew  his 
sword  swiftly:  the  wine  went  out  of  his  head.  "As 
you  will,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  if  you  must  interfere 
where  you  have  no  business."  So  he  turned  half 
round,  saluted  his  enemy  and  crossed  swords. 

"  Oh  !  Good  gentlemen  !  "  cried  Molly,  wringing 
her  hands. 

"  Gentlemen  !  "  I  said.     "  They  are  drunk " 


The  First  Meeting;.  67 

As  I  spoke  an  extraordinary  transformation  fell 
upon  Captain  Scllinger.  His  face  expressed  suddenly 
a  swift  succession  of  emotions — doubt,  astonishment, 
bewilderment,  and  recognition.  "Good  Lord!"  he 
cried.  Then  he  lowered  his  sword  to  the  ground,  the 
point  touching  the  stones  :  he  took  off  his  hat,  bowed 
low,  sheathed  his  sword,  and  still  with  bowed  head 
retreated  backward,  and  so  passed  into  the  Park  be- 
yond. 

For  my  own  part,  I  was  not  so  much  astonished  by 
this  behaviour,  because  my  people  practise  these  cour- 
tesies of  bows  and  bendings  and  reverences  so  little, 
that,  indeed,  I  knew  not  what  kind  of  reverence  is  due 
to  this  person  or  to  that. 

"  So,"  said  the  younger  of  the  two,  "  the  adventure 
ends  well.  What  about  this  other  brave  companion 
of  the  bottle?  " 

For  Captain  SelHnger's  friend,  on  losing  the  support 
of  his  brother  toper,  fell  forward  on  the  kerbstone, 
and,  not  being  able  to  get  up,  was  fumbling  about 
stupidly  in  search  of  his  sword,  which  he  was  too 
drunk  to  find. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  kindly 
help.  As  for  this  poor  man  lying  here,  I  say  again 
that  he  is  drunk.  Otherwise,  pray,  gentlemen,  be  so 
good  as  to  put  up  your  swords." 

So  they  obeyed.  And  the  elder,  with  a  bow,  asked 
me  if  I  had  far  to  go.  I  told  him  that  at  the  end  of 
St.  James's  Place  lived  my  cousin,  whom  I  was  then 
visiting,  and  that  I  could  now  go  home  in  perfect 
safety. 


68  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  Nay,  Madam,"  he  replied.  "  To  the  door  at  least 
you  will  suffer  us  to  attend  you." 

So  they  walked,  one  on  either  side  of  me,  for  the 
short  distance  that  remained.  When  we  reached  the 
door  I  thanked  them  again  and  wished  them  good- 
night. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two,  gazing  into  my 
face  but  not  boldly  or  impudently— the  word  impu- 
dence can  never,  surely,  be  connected  with  him — 
"  may  we,  at  least,  learn  the  name  of  the  lady — or  the 
goddess — whom  we  have  this  evening  happily  as- 
sisted ?" 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  ashamed  to  be  called  a  goddess, 
"  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  late  Samuel  Waldon,  paper 
manufacturer  of  Dartford  in  Kent.  I  am  here  on  a 
visit  to  my  cousin  Mrs.  Isabel  Storey,  w  idov/  of  my 
father's  cousin,  the  late  Mr.  Reuben  Storey,  American 
merchant,  of  Great  Tower  Hill." 

He  received  the  information  with  a  show  of  the 
deepest  interest,  and  lingered  as  if  uncertain. 

"Come,  George,"  said  the  other,  "  we  keep  this  lady 
waiting  on  her  doorstep." 

So  the  elder  of  the  two  bowed.  *'  Madam,"  he  said, 
"I  humbly  hope  for  our  better  acquaintance." 

"I  too.  Madam,"  said  the  other,  "venture  to  hope 
for  better  acquaintance.  If,"  he  indicated  his  com- 
panion, "  this  gentleman  be  permitted  the  honour  of 
calling " 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  no  right  to  accept  or  to 
refuse  such  an  honour,  being  but  a  guest  of  my  cousin." 

"Sure,    Miss    Nancy,"    said    the   impudent    Molly, 


The  First  Meeting.  69 

''there  are  not  too  many  young  gentlemen  coming  to 
the  house.  Do  you  call,  gentlemen,  and  you  will  find 
a  welcome,  trust  me.  Good-night,  therefore,  gentle- 
men, and  thank  you  for  my  mistress." 

So  they  laughed  and  walked  away.  I  turned  my 
head  to  look  after  them,  and  was  punished  for  my  curi- 
osity like  Lot's  wife — for  the  elder  of  the  two,  he  who 
was  called  George,  had  also  turned  his  head,  and  he 
smiled  and  waved  his  hand.  It  made  me  blush  to  be 
caught  looking  after  him. 

At  his  own  door,  half  opened,  stood  Dr.  Mynster- 
chamber,  the  lodger  of  the  ground  floor,  in  his  ragged 
old  gown  and  his  head  wrapped  in  a  nightcap.  The 
man  was  so  long  and  lean  and  so  much  like  a  vulture 
that  I  shuddered  whenever  I  met  him,  and  this  was 
almost  every  time  that  we  went  out  of  the  house  or 
returned  to  it.  He  would  then  open  his  door  an 
inch  or  two,  poke  out  his  hooked  nose  and  nod  his 
head,  saying,  "  Good-morning,  fair  Nancy  "  :  or  "  Di- 
vine Nancy";  or  "Lovely  nymph,  good-day,"  with 
the  privilege  which  we  accord  to  age. 

This  evening  his  door  was  opened  wider  than  usual, 
and  his  whole  head  came  out,  "  Lovely  Nancy,"  he 
said,  "  the  beaux  are  beginning.  Thy  train  will  soon 
drive  other  nymphs  to  madness." 

"  I  have  no  beaux,  Dr.  Mynsterchamber." 

"  It  is  a  magnificent  beginning.  One  of  them,  at 
least,  will  come  again,  doubtless.  Have  they  told 
thee,  child,  who  and  what  they  are?  Ha!  not  yet. 
In  good  time.  Well,  history  is  made  by  women.  Love 
rules  the  Court ;  love  is  victorious  over  the  conqueror. 


7°  A  Fountain  Sealed!. 

The  Kings  are  led  by  Rosamond  and  Alice  and  Jane 
and  Nelly  and  Gabrielle,  each  in  his  turn  ;  each  by  one 
at  a  time.  For  a  time  they  have  their  day — their 
little  day  " — his  voice  was  like  a  raven's,  hoarse  and 
boding  ill.  "Well — the  candle  is  lit :  the  pretty  moth 
flies  round  and  round  :  pure  and  clear  burns  the  flame  : 
see  !  the  moth  flies  into  it,  and  lies  dying,  all  its  colours 
burned  up.     The  story  of  Semele  is  a  parable." 

"  I  know  not  what  you  mean,  Sir." 

"  No,  no.  Best  not  ask  their  names.  That  they 
should  come  to  this  house — to  this  house — strange  !  " 
He  shut  his  door  and  retired.  As  I  ran  up  the  stairs, 
I  heard  him  muttering.  His  words  made  me  uneasy. 
What  did  he  mean  by  his  long  list  of  women?  Who 
was  the  moth  and  what  was  the  candle  ? 


"  I  wonder  who  they  were,"  said  my  cousin.  "  So 
Molly  promised  them  a  welcome  in  my  name.  Molly 
is  an  impudent  baggage.  Yet,  my  dear,  one  would 
not  stand  in  your  way.  They  will  come  to  see  you. 
Oh,  Nancy  !  that  such  a  lovely  face  was  condemned  to 
go  in  grey,  and  to  marry  a  man  in  drab  !  Monstrous ! 
Well,  they  shall  have  a  welcome.  Heaven  grant  they 
may  not  prove  to  be  profligates." 

"  They  looked  most  virtuous,  I  think." 
"  Looked  indeed  !  Who  can  trust  a  man's  looks  ? 
Last  year  one  of  them — a  mere  adventurer — carried 
off  an  heiress,  and  was  at  Gretna  Green  before  her 
parents  knew  that  she  was  lost.  To  be  sure,  they  say 
that  she  was  nothing  loth." 


The  First  Meetingf.  71 

"  1  am  no  heiress,  cousin.  Therefore  no  one  will 
carry  me  off." 

"  I  don't  know,  child.  There  are  other  reasons  for 
carrying  ofT  a  woman.  Besides,  thy  father  was 
possessed  of  goodly  bags  of  gold.  There  are  hunters 
of  nymphs  as  well  as  hunters  of  fortune.  There  are" 
in  the  world  always  young  men  named  Lovelace. 
Remember  Clarissa,  my  dear." 

I  laid  my  hand  on  hers.  "  If  Clarissa  had  lived  with 
thee,  dear  cousin,  Lovelace  would  not  have  ventured 
or  succeeded." 


CHAPTER  V. 
The  Next  Day« 

In  the  morning  Captain  Sellinger  presented  himself, 
making  the  excuses  due  from  a  gentleman.  There 
was  not  much  repentance  in  his  looks,  but  some :  he 
was  not  wholly  without  grace.  His  excuses  were  not 
too  full  of  self-reproach:  he  had  not  lost  any  self- 
respect,  because  he  was  certainly  not  more  drunk  than 
becomes  a  gentleman,  as  was  shown  by  the  fact  that 
he  could  still  distinguish  a  lovely  woman.  "  This,"  I 
said,  "  was  the  reason  why  you  kissed  Molly,  the 
maid."  The  accident,  he  confessed,  betrayed  a  mo- 
mentary wandering  of  wits. 

He  owned,  however,  that  he  ought  to  have  taken 
my  refusal  seriously  and  allowed  me  to  pass.  And  he 
expressed  himself  as  unfeignedly  sorry  for  having 
caused  me  the  least  pain.  In  a  word,  he  spoke  as  a 
gentleman  should. 

"  Still,  Captain  Sellinger,  I  am  pleased  to  think  that 
Molly  boxed  your  ears," 

"  I  shall  call  Molly  out.  She  must  give  me  satisfac- 
tion. Can  a  man  of  honour  sit  down  with  ears  tin- 
gling? You  say  that  I  mistook  the  maid  for  the 
mistress.  That  should  be  impossible  in  your  case, 
Miss  Nancy.     I  have  seen  maids — but  enough.     You 


The  Next  Day.  73 

say  that  Molly  virtuously  boxed  my  ears?  Well,  I 
cannot  remember.  And  then,  suddenly,  so  far  as 
my  memory  serves  me,  who  should  jump  out  of  the 
ground  like  a  Jack-in-the-box,  or  a  ghost  at  Drury,  but 
the  Prince  of  Wales  himself,  with  his  feathers  on  his 
head  and  a  naked  sword  in  his  hand  ?  " 

"You  are  dreaming.  Captain  Sellinger." 

"  I  suppose  I  am.  But,  Nancy,  how  came  the 
Prince  of  Wales  in  St.  James's  Place?  " 

"  How  came  he  in  your  muddled  brain?  How  can 
any  one  account  for  tricks  of  imagination  ?  Besides, 
there  were  two  gentlemen,  not  one." 

"  Na — na — na — do  not  make  me  out  sober.  I  saw 
two  gentlemen,  which  is  a  proof  that  there  was  but 
one.  Had  there  been  two  I  should  have  seen  four. 
Everybody  knows  so  much.  There  was  one  gentle- 
man, I  tell  you,  not  two." 

After  the  Captain  came  the  Corporal. 

Corporal  Bates,  also  of  the  Guards,  but  not  in  Cap- 
tain Sellinger's  company,  occupied  the  garrets  of  the 
house  with  his  wife  and  family  of  six  little  children. 
All  day  long,  unless  it  rained,  the  children  played  in 
the  Green  Park,  while  their  mother  made  and  sewed 
for  them  the  clothes  that  they  wore  out  as  fast  as 
they  could.  The  Corporal  maintained  them  (but  with 
difificulty)  by  teaching  the  art  of  fence,  the  mathemat- 
ics, drawing  landscapes  and  houses,  painting  in  water- 
colours,  and  fine  penmanship,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
many  accomplishments.  When  he  was  at  leisure  he 
drew  up  plans  of  campaign,  plans  of  sieges,  observa- 
tions on    campaigns,   and    military   pamphlets   of   all 


74  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

kinds,  but  especially  such  as  professed  to  extend  the 
power  of  the  country.  None  of  these  learned  tracts 
would  booksellers — who  were  in  a  league,  he  said,  to 
crush  merit — publish  for  him.  All  his  talk  was  on 
military  matters ;  and  he  lived  in  the  constant  hope 
(and  as  constant  disappointment)  of  receiving  a  com- 
mission. In  a  word,  he  was  a  brave,  loyal,  honest 
man,  who  believed  himself  to  be  another  Churchill,  or 
a  Turenne  at  least,  in  the  art  of  war. 

Coming  off  duty  that  morning  he  knocked  at  our 
door  and  appeared  in  his  uniform,  with  a  high  hat, 
white  cross  belt,  and  long  worsted  epaulettes,  which 
he  played  with  proudly  because  they  proclaimed  his 
rank.  To  be  corporal  is  to  stand  on  the  lowest  rung 
of  the  ladder,  but  yet  it  is  on  the  ladder. 

"  Ladies,"  he  said,  saluting  us,  "  your  most  obedient 
servant.  I  come  to  offer  my  respects  and  my  condo- 
lences. Truly  I  tear  my  hair  to  think  that  Fortune — 
cruel  Fortune — forbade  me  the  happiness  which  two 
unknown  gentleme-n  enjoyed  last  night.  Perhaps  they 
were  not  even  soldiers.  I  venture  to  hope  that  no 
evil  consequences  of  the  shock  have  ensued.  Ha ! 
had  I  been  there — though  he  is  Captain  in  my  reg- 
iment— yet  he  should  have  seen  what  sword-play 
means.  Captain  or  no  Captain — even  if  I  was  broke 
for  it."  He  looked  as  valiant  as  Mars  himself,  the 
God  of  War. 

'*  Thank  you.  Corporal  Eates,"  I  replied.  "  But  it 
was  much  better  to  have  no  fighting." 

"As  for  consequences,"  said  my  cousin.  "Miss 
Nancy  did  not  even  swoon,  which  proves  her  courage ; 


The  Next  Day.  75 

and  Molly  assures  me  that  her  own  appetite  is  unim- 
paired, which  proves  her  insensibihty.  Yet  she  was 
kissed." 

"  It  is  my  sorrow,  ladies,"  he  repeated,  bringing  his 
feet  into  position,  "  that  I  was  not  so  favoured  as  to 
be  on  the  spot.  In  such  a  case,  my  commission  they 
could  not  choose  but  grant  me  as  a  reward." 

"  Courage,  Corporal.  Another  occasion  will  per- 
haps present  itself." 

"  Madam,  you  will  perhaps  go  again  to  evening 
prayers.  The  Church  bell  is  the  ladies'  call  of  duty: 
it  is  their  reveille.  I  most  humbly  offer  my  services  as 
escort.  I  presume  not  to  walk  beside  my  convoy — 
I  will  walk  behind  with  a  drawn  sword  and  a  proud 
heart." 

Here,  at  least,  was  devotion  and  gratitude.  One 
would  willingly  be  frightened  a  little  if  only  to  draw 
forth  such  proof  of  kind  hearts. 

"But,  Corporal,  valour,  even  when  it  has  no  chance 
of  proving  itself,  deserves  reward."  My  cousin  took 
from  the  cupboard  a  bottle  of  port  and  a  glass.  "  Sir, 
you  must  be  thirsty." 

"  In  the  presence  of  Beauty,  Madam,  every  soldier 
is  thirsty."  I  do  not  know  what  he  meant  by  this  aph- 
orism. "  I  drink  your  health,  Madam — Miss  Nancy, 
when  Virginal  distress  next  calls  for  the  hero's  arm, 
may  I  be  there  to  help !  " 

Our  next  visitor  that  day  was  Mr.  Robert  Storey, 
the  bookseller  of  St.  James's  Street.  He  was  cousin 
to  Isabel's  late  husband  ;  yet  his  branch  of  the  family 
belonged  not  to  the  Society.     He  was  at  this    time 


7  6  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

still  a  young  man,  not  more  than  eight-and-twenty, 
having  succeeded  to  his  father's  business  two  or  three 
years  before.  In  his  dress  he  aimed  at  the  outward 
semblance  of  the  substantial  citizen  •  he  would  be 
taken  for  one  known  on  'Change  ;  therefore  his  coat 
was  of  black  velvet,  his  stockings  of  white  silk,  and  his 
buckles  of  silver;  at  his  throat  and  wrists  he  wore  fine 
white  lace;  his  buttons  were  of  silver,  and  silver  lace 
adorned  his  hat ;  his  powdered  hair  was  tied  behind 
with  a  large  black  silk  bow  ;  a  bunch  of  seals  hung  from 
his  fob  ;  a  gold  ring  was  on  one  finger  ;  and  he  carried  a 
gold-headed  cane.  He  stood  at  the  door  for  a  mo- 
ment in  a  studied  attitude:  in  his  right  hand  he  held 
his  hat  over  his  heart  :  in  his  left  he  held  the  gold- 
headed  cane  :  he  brought  his  feet  into  the  dancing- 
master's  first  position,,  that  which  shows  the  white 
silk  stockings  and  the  shape  of  a  good  leg  to  advan- 
tage. He  was,  in  fact,  a  personable  young  man  of  fair 
stature  and  reasonable  face,  though  his  eyes  were  too 
close  together.  He  bowed  low,  first  to  his  cousin,  and 
then  to  myself. 

"Cousin  Storey,"  he  said,  "your  most  obedient. 
Miss  Nancy,  your  most  humble." 

Then  he  came  in  and  sat  down.  In  all  his  actions 
and  all  his  words,  Robert  Storey  still  preserved  the 
air  of  one  who  performs  a  duty  properly.  He  now 
held  himself  upright  in  his  chair :  his  legs  crossed  :  his 
left  hand  plunged  into  his  waistcoat,  his  right  hand 
free  for  gesture. 

His  shop  in  Pall  Mall,  which  we  often  visited,  was 
large   and    filled   with    books :    folios   on   the    lower 


The  Next  Day.  77 

shelves  :  quartos  on  the  middle  :  and  octavos  on  the 
higher.  It  was  all  day  filled  with  book  collectors, 
poets,  scholars,  divines,  and  certain  persons  for  whom 
he  entertained  a  profound  contempt,  yet  employed 
them  constantly,  called  booksellers'  hacks.  They  are 
persons,  it  appears,  who  have  some  tincture  of  learn- 
ing but  none  of  genius  :  they  are  cursed  with  an 
ardent  desire  to  write,  a  desire  which  unfits  them  for 
any  honourable  employment ;  yet  they  cannot  with 
all  their  efforts  depict  the  passions,  move  the  heart,  or 
fire  the  imagination.  They  compile  books  which 
those  who  cannot  distinguish  treat  seriously  :  such  as 
essays  for  the  magazine,  at  a  guinea  the  sheet,  poetry 
by  subscription,  translations  of  ancient  poets  already 
translated  a  hundred  times,  histories  copied  from  bet- 
ter historians,  travels  in  foreign  countries  (never  hav- 
ing left  their  own),  sermons  for  clergymen  who  cannot 
compose — in  a  word,  they  are  hacks  ready  to  do  all 
kinds  of  work  at  any  pay  that  they  can  get.  It  is 
needless  to  add  that  they  will  advocate  any  cause, 
write  on  any  side,  and — still  at  a  guinea  a  sheet — 
would  defend  even  the  fallen  angels. 

Robert  came  often  to  visit  us  in  the  evening  after 
his  shop  was  shut.  Sometimes  he  read  to  us;  some- 
times he  spoke  of  the  poets,  who  made  of  his  shop  a 
kind  of  Apollo's  Walk.  It  must  be  confessed  that, 
although  he  despised  the  tribe  of  hacks,  he  spoke  al- 
ways with  reverence  of  those  scholars  and  poets  and 
wits  whose  productions  lend  a  lustre  to  this  age — such 
men,  I  mean,  as  Samuel  Johnson,  Dr.  Warburton, 
Lord  Lyttelton,  Henry  Fielding,  Tobias  Smollett,  the 


78  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Reverend  Laurence  Sterne,  and  David  Garrick,  if  one 
may  include  a  mere  actor  with  these  illustrious  names. 

More  often,  however,  Robert  brought  us  news  of 
the  great  world,  with  anecdotes  and  scandals,  which 
he  produced  one  by  one,  as  a  child  picks  out  plums. 
His  shop,  in  fact,  was  a  greater  home  for  gossip  and 
scandal  than  even  a  barber's :  scholars  and  men  of 
letters,  I  verily  believe,  love  talking  as  much  as  wo- 
men. He  would  deliver  himself  of  these  items  slowly 
and  with  intervals:  and  he  was  fond  of  concluding 
any  one,  when  he  could,  with  a  moral  or  a  religious 
observation. 

This  evening,  however,  he  had  no  opportunity,  for  my 
cousin  instantly  poured  into  his  ears  the  story  of  my 
adventure.     He  received  it  with  a  good  man's  horror. 

"  This,"  he  exclaimed  at  length,  as  carried  away  by 
righteous  indignation,  "  appears  to  me  one  of  the 
most  flagitious  acts  ever  attempted  by  a  profligate 
aristocracy." 

"Mr.  Robert,"  I  told  him,  somewhat  surprised  at 
his  heat,  "  the  Captain  was  overcome  with  drink  and 
knew  not  what  he  did." 

"Your  ignorance.  Miss  Nancy,"  he  replied  with  a 
smile,  "  enables  you  to  undertake  the  defence  of  that 
bad  man.  The  business  seems  to  me  (I  am  necessarily 
acquainted  with  much  of  the  wickedness  of  the  world) 
arranged  beforehand  :  two  men  pretend  to  be  drunk  : 
they  waylay  a  young  gentlewoman  :  two  others  pre- 
tend to  rescue  her.  The  conspiracy  is  quite  easy  to 
carry  out,  if  one  has  the  wickedness  to  devise  it  and 
the  daring  to  carry  it  through." 


The  Next  Day.  79 

"  That,  Mr.  Storey,"  I  replied,  "  seems,  if  I  may  say 
so,  nonsense,  because  how  could  they  know  when  we 
should  pass  ?     Besides,  the  Captain  was  really  drunk." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  bowed  his  head. 

"  Miss  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  has,  I  know,  been  already 
remarked.  I  have  heard  observations  upon  her  singu- 
lar beauty  in  my  shop — from  Doctors  of  Divinity.  If 
these  reverend  persons  observe  the  beauty  of  a  lady, 
be  sure  that  the  profligate  beaux  and  sparks  of  this 
end  of  town  have  also  done  the  same  thing.  How- 
ever, let  us  hope  that  the  business  is  finished." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Robert,"  said  my  cousin,  "  these 
gentlemen  have  expressed  a  desire,  which  does  us 
great  honour,  to  improve  their  acquaintance." 

*' Ay  ?  Ay?  Dear!  Dear!  The  wickedness  of 
this  part  of  town  is  terrible  :  yet  I  have  five  satirists 
in  verse  and  eleven  in  prose  on  my  books  and  in  my 
pay  at  this  moment  lashing  the  vices  of  the  Great. 
There  is  also  a  sermon  every  Sunday  at  St.  James's. 
Well,  ladies,  this  is  a  very  serious  affair.  You  will 
have  to  place  it  in  my  hands.  Believe  me,  I  shall  do 
justice  to  the  occasion." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "  that  these  are  two  well- 
bred  gentlemen  who  desire  to  pay  their  respects  to 
ladies  who  are  indebted  to  them.  I  cannot  under- 
stand, Mr.  Storey,  either  your  heat  or  your  charges 
of  deceit  and  wickedness.  Is  it  not  better  to  believe 
that  a  man  is  honourable  until  he  shows  that  he  is 
not?" 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  you  know  nothing,  believe 
me.     And  my  cousin  here  knows  little  more.     How 


8o  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

can  you  know  the  kind  of  company  into  which  you 
may  be  led  ?" 

"  We  have  at  least  read  '  Clarissa,*  "  said  Isabel. 

"Well,  Mr,  Richardson  knows  how  to  teach  and 
warn  the  female  heart.  Without  raising  a  blush  to 
your  cheek,  Miss  Nancy,  I  cannot  describe  the  com- 
pany into  which  you  may  fall.  Know,  however,  that 
these  young  Sprigs  of  Quality  (if  such  indeed  is  their 
station)  live  in  a  world  which  is  different  indeed  from 
our  own.  So  much  so  that  we  cannot  get  into  it,  if 
we  would.  I  thank  the  Lord,  however,  that  I  desire 
not  to  exchange  my  station  for  theirs.  We  are  hon- 
est workers,  they  are  unprofitable  drones  :  we  make 
wealth,  they  consume  it :  we  live  with  measure  and 
decorum,  they  without  rule  or  order :  we  save,  they 
spend  :  we  take  thought  for  the  morrow,  their  morrow 
is  assured  :  we  live  for  the  world  to  come,  they  for 
the  world  that  is  :  we  fear  God  and  keep  His  com- 
mandments, they  continue  as  if  there  were  no  com- 
mandments at  all :  we  are  constant  in  our  affections, 
they  continually  mislead  and  deceive  trusting  women. 
Miss  Nancy,  seek  not  further  acquaintance  with  these 
young  men.  They  are  so  far  above  you,  indeed,  that 
they  are  infinitely  below  you." 

The  last  sentence  so  pleased  him,  inasmuch  as  it 
sounded  like  a  paradox  from  one  of  his  essayists,  that 
he  repeated  it.  The  words  impressed  me  at  the  mo- 
ment as  anything  said  sonorously  which  one  does  not 
understand  sometimes  does  impress  a  hearer— you 
may  hear  such  things  in  church.  If  you  think  of  it, 
however,  it  is  a  foolish  thing  to  say,  for  it  means  that 


The  Next  Day.  8i 

the  higher  is  a  man's  rank  the  more  corrupt  does  he 
become  :  in  which  case  his  Most  Sacred  Majesty  him- 
self— but  I  hesitate  to  write  the  words. 

"  Ladies,"  he  went  on,  "it  is  your  singular  privilege, 
also,  to  belong  to  this  same  class,  which  is  as  much 
above  the  common  herd  as  it  is  below  the  nobility. 
What,  to  you,  are  the  attractions  of  fashion  and  of 
rank  ?  These  two  gentlemen  hope  to  get  a  footing  in 
this  house  by  an  open  and  palpable  trick,  which  they 
have  learned  from  a  novel  of  intrigue  (unhappily  there 
are  such  novels,  but  not  published  by  me).  What  sort 
of  reception  should  they  meet  ?  From  me,  if  I  were 
here,  they  would  hear  the  truth."  He  rose  and  stood 
in  an  attitude  of  one  who  rebukes.  "  *  Retire,'  I 
should  say,  'Retire  in  confusion  '" — he  stood  up  and 
pointed  to  the  door — "  '  from  this  house  of  Virtue 
and  Religion.  Leave  unmolested  the  Daughters  of 
Innocence  who  adorn  this  house.  Retire!  Repent  of 
designs  conceived  in  wickedness,  or  carry  those  de- 
signs to  places  which  are  more  fit  for  their  attempt.' 
These  are  the  words,  ladies — or  words  to  this  effect — 
which  I  should  feel  it  absolutely  necessary  to  use,  on 
your  behalf,  were  these  gentlemen  in  my  presence  to 
attempt  an  entrance." 

More  he  would  have  added,  in  the  same  elevated 
strain,  for  as  a  moraliser  Robert  Storey  had  no  equal. 
But  at  that  moment  Molly  came  running  upstairs  and 
threw  open  the  door,  crying,  without  any  ceremony, 
"  Madam  !  Miss  Nancy  !  The  two  young  gentlemen 
are  here  !  " 

And  so,  her  honqst  face  grianing  from  ear  to  ear». 


82  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

she  withdrew,  and  our  two  gallant  rescuers  ap- 
peared. 

We  all  rose. 

"  Madam,"  the  elder  spoke,  bowing  first  to  my 
cousin  and  then  to  me,  "we  have  ventured  to  call,  in 
order  to  ask  if  Miss  Nancy  hath  recovered  from  the 
shock  and  affright  of  yesterday," 

"  Nay,  Sir."  I  said.  "  If  you  call  that  a  fright 
which  was  but  an  affair  of  a  moment,  thanks  to  your 
courage " 

"  Nancy,"  my  cousin  interposed,  "  was  naturally 
indisposed  at  first,  but  with  the  aid  of  a  little  cherry 
brandy,  she  speedily  recovered." 

I  hastened  to  present  her  by  name.  "  Gentlemen, 
this  is  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Storey,  widow  of  the  late  Reu- 
ben Storey,  American  merchant,  of  Great  Tower 
Hill." 

They  bowed  low  again.  "And  this  is  Mr.  Robert 
Storey."  They  inclined  their  heads  slightly  with  a 
look  of  condescension — as  if  I  had  introduced  Molly 
my  maid.  They  were  dressed  as  the  day  before,  but 
their  swords  they  had  left  outside  on  the  landing. 

We  then  sat  down,  and  I  waited  with  some  trepida- 
tion for  Robert's  promised  harangue.  Alas!  there 
would  be  no  harangue.  The  poor  man  stood  confused 
and  terrified.  His  face  expressed  this  confusion  :  his 
hands  hung  stupidly  :  his  stiffness  and  resolution  had 
gone  out  of  him.  Where  was  the  proper  pride  of  the 
bookseller,  which  should  have  sustained  him  even 
in  the  presence  of  a  Baron  ?  Gone  :  it  had  left  him. 
When  the  rest  of  us  sat  down  he  remained  standing: 


The  Next  Day.  83 

he  appeared  unable  to  decide  what  to  do :  he  opened 
his  mouth  and  gasped :  as  for  the  words  of  fire  where 
were  they?  Then  he  stammered  a  confused  good- 
night to  his  cousin,  bowed  low  to  the  gentlemen,  and 
retired,  falling  ignominiously  over  the  mat  as  he  went 
out.  So  there  was  an  end  to  the  grand  appeal  in  the 
name  of  virtue. 


CHAPTER  VL 
''My  Brother,  Sir  George." 

When  Mr.  Robert  Storey  left  us,  in  this  sudden 
and  surprising  manner,  before  we  resumed  our  chairs, 
the  younger  of  the  two  visitors  introduced  his  brother 
and  himself, 

"  Madam,"  addressing  my  cousin,  "  our  anxiety  for 
the  safety  of  Miss  Nancy  may,  we  hope,  excuse  our 
presumption  in  calling.  Let  me  present  to  you  my 
brother,  Sir  George  Le  Breton :  I  am  myself — Mr. 
Edward  Le  Breton,  of  His  Majesty's  Navy.  And, 
believe  me,  we  are  both  very  much  at  your  service." 

Sir  George  bowed  low  and  looked  about  the  room 
curiously,  as  if  he  were  in  some  strange  place. 

"Gentlemen,"  my  cousin  replied,  smiling  sweetly — 
most  grateful  in  her  mind  that  she  was  arrayed  becom- 
ingly  !  "  I  am  indeed  gratified  by  this  honour,  the 
more  so  as  it  enables  me  to  express  my  sense  of  your 
gallantry  last  night." 

They  both  disclaimed  any  cause  for  gratitude,  and, 
compliments  finished,  we  sat  down  and  began  to  talk. 

"  My  brother,"  said  the  sailor,  "  is  a  country  gentle- 
man, so  that  he  can  stay  at  home  while  I  go  plough- 
ing the  salt  wave." 

While  he  spoke,  his  brother  was  looking  about  the 


''My  Brother,  Sir  George*''  85 

room  with  curiosity.  He  appeared  not  to  hear  this 
remark. 

"To  be  a  country  f;"cntlcman,"  said  my  cousin,  "  is 
a  great  thing.  May  I  ask,  Sir  " — she  addressed  Sir 
George — "  in  what  county  Hes  your  estate  ?  " 

Sir  George  started,  and  changed  colour. 

"  I  have  property,"  he  replied  in  some  confusion — 
I  know  not  why — "  chiefly  in  Berks  and  Wilts  :  but 
also  elsewhere " 

The  elder  brother  was  at  that  time  in  the  first  flush 
of  early  manhood  :  he  was  tall  and  strongly  made  :  he 
was  much  stronger,  one  would  judge  from  his  breadth 
and  height,  than  the  ordinary  run  of  young  men  :  his 
lips  and  mouth  spoke  of  firmness:  his  features  were 
regular  and  large  :  he  moved  and  spoke  with  an  un- 
mistakable air  of  authority,  yet  his  eyes,  swift  to 
change,  betrayed  the  gentleness  and  softness  of  his 
heart :  although  at  a  time  of  life  when  youth  is  at  its 
best  and  the  spirits  are  at  their  highest,  he  wore  an 
habitual  expression  of  seriousness,  as  of  one  who  con- 
templates grave  responsibilities.  His  cheek  betrayed 
by  its  rosy  hue  his  splendid  health. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  summary  of  his 
appearance  could  have  been  written  after  the  first  day 
of  conversation.  Not  at  all.  I  write  down  the  de- 
scription of  the  man  as  I  learned  to  know  him  in  three 
months  of  his  society  and  conversation. 

I  must  call  the  second,  as  he  presently  begged  me  to 
do,  being  always  of  a  frank  and  even  fraternal  kindli- 
ness, by  his  Christian  name.  Not,  therefore.  Captain 
Le    Breton,  but    Edward.     As  for  him,  vivacity  was 


86  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

stamped  upon  his  face ;  he  was  animated  in  speech, 
in  look,  in  movement ;  he  was  always  happy ;  he 
seemed  to  laugh  whenever  he  spoke  ;  not  so  much  at 
the  wit  or  humour  of  what  was  said,  as  that,  beincr 
perfectly  happy,  he  must  needs  laugh.  Yet  he  could 
at  any  moment  assume  an  air  of  authority  almost  as 
profound  as  that  of  his  brother.  In  appearance  he  was 
smaller  and  slighter  ;  his  dress,  which  was  that  of  a  naval 
officer,  of  blue  cloth  with  white  facings,  gold  buttons, 
and  a  scarlet  sash,  was  much  less  splendid  than  the 
silk  coat  worn  by  his  brother.  Yet  it  seemed  to  befit 
his  character,  which  was  entirely  simple  and  trustful. 
And  as  his  own  soul  was  incapable  of  aught  that  was 
mean,  disloyal,  or  treacherous,  so  he  believed  that 
most  of  the  world  was  created  after  the  same  mould. 
I  think,  for  my  own  part,  that  he  who  is  thus  consti- 
tuted, and  can  so  regard  his  fellows,  is  far  more  likely 
to  obtain  such  happiness  as  the  world  affords  than  one 
who  regards  every  other  man  as  a  rogue  and  a  traitor  : 
who  finds  mean  motives  in  the  noblest  actions :  and 
guards  himself  at  every  point  against  the  possible 
treachery  of  a  friend. 

The  discourse  on  this,  their  first  visit,  was  much  more 
formal  than  it  afterwards  became.  Our  friends  mani- 
fested some  curiosity  as  to  the  Society  of  Friends 
(Isabel  made  haste  to  explain  our  connection  with  that 
body),  of  which  they  had  never  before  seen  any  mem- 
bers. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Sir  George,  "  that  there  had  been 
some  distinction  in  dress.  I  heard  something  of  a 
leather  doublet  which  was  never  changed." 


''My  Brother,  Sir  George/'  87 

"  There  were  formerly  extravagances,"  my  cousin 
replied.  "  These  have  now  settled  down  into  a  dress 
of  drab  for  the  men  and  of  drab  or  grey  for  the  wo- 
men. They  wear  no  ornaments,  as  they  practise  no 
arts." 

"  Miss  Nancy  is,  therefore,  not  a  Quakeress." 

"  She  has  not  yet  left  the  Society.  While  she  stays 
with  me  she  dresses  as  fashion  orders.  When  my 
husband  died  I  went  back  to  the  Church  of  England, 
in  which  I  was  born." 

"  Madam,"  said  Sir  George  very  earnestly,  "  permit 
me  to  say  that  you  are  quite  right.  There  can  be  no 
form  of  faith  in  which  we  can  find  so  much  happiness 
or  such  solid  assurance  for  the  future.  And  there  is 
no  other  form  of  faith  in  which  there  have  been  and 
are  still  so  many  scholars,  divines,  and  philosophers." 

"  Add  to  which,"  his  brother  said,  "  that  we  must 
not  let  Miss  Nancy  resume  the  grey  and  drab,  or  she 
will  make  that  fashion  immortal.  As  it  is,  I  look  to 
see  no  change  in  the  present  fashion  while  Miss 
Nancy  adorns  it." 

I  take  pleasure  in  remembering  the  little  extrava- 
gances which  please  at  the  time,  because  they  are  ex- 
travagant, yet  mean  nothing. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  my  cousin,  "  Nancy  may  be  per- 
suaded not  to  return  to  the  garb  of  the  Quakeress." 

"  Grey  and  drab — 'tis  the  habit  of  a  nun.  Miss 
Nancy,  we  cannot  believe  that  you  were  intended  for 
a  nunnery." 

So  we  talked  on  all  kinds  of  things.  Sir  George  ad- 
mired my  cousin's  pictures,  and  examined  them  more 


8S  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

closely,  my  cousin  explaining  them.  Mr.  Edward  and 
I  talked  meanwhile.  He  asked  me  what  people  I 
knew  or  visited  about  St.  James's  ;  he  expressed  his 
surprise  that  he  had  never  met  or  seen  us  anywhere. 

"  Sir,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  only  a  Quakeress,  but  also 
the  daughter  of  a  manufacturer.  On  either  ground  I 
can  have  no  place  in  the  fashionable  world.  We  live 
here,  in  the  midst  of  noble  people,  but  have  no  friends 
among  them." 

"Yet  I  swear,"  he  replied,  laughing,  ''there  is  not 
anywhere  one  better  fitted  to  grace  a  Court." 

Sir  George  had  finished  his  round  of  the  walls,  and 
now  stood  beside  me  and  heard  these  words. 

"  Why,"  said  Sir  George,  "  you  miss  all  the  scandal. 
This  kind  of  life  is  full  of  scandals.  You  are  happy 
not  to  know  how  much  Lady  Betty  lost  last  night  at 
ombre,  and  how  Lady  Charlotte  has  run  away  with 
her  groom.  Pray,  Madam,  do  not  change  in  this  par- 
ticular. Do  not  let  Miss  Nancy  join  the  goodly  com- 
pany of  Scandal." 

Presently  turning  over  a  portfolio  of  engravings,  we 
came  upon  one  of  a  sea-fight.  "  Why,"  cried  Edward, 
"  I  myself  am  a  mere  tarpaulin.  I  ought  to  have 
come  in  my  petticoats."  So  he  took  up  the  picture 
and  began  to  talk  about  sea-fights,  of  which  he  had 
seen  more  than  one  ;  of  engagements  on  land,  and  of 
tempests  and  shipwrecks.  Alas  !  what  a  gallant  lad 
he  was,  and  how  the  colour  rose  to  his  cheeks  and  the 
light  of  his  eye  fired  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
cheered  the  striking  of  the  enemy's  flag  !  His  brother 
listened,  as  much  moved  as  ourselves.     "  Happy  the 


"My  Brother,  Sir  Georg:e.**  89 

land,"   he    said,    "  happy  the    King    for   whom  these 
brave  fellows  fight  !  " 

"Yet  I  was  taught  to  believe  that  all  fighting  is  un- 
christian," I  said.  "  Our  people  hold  the  doctrine 
of  non-resistance.  They  obey  the  Gospel  precept. 
They  turn  the  other  cheek." 

Sir  George  replied  slowly  :  "  Why,  then,  if  fighting 
is  unchristian,  where  is  patriotism  or  loyalty  ?  Where 
is  the  honour  that  despises  death  ?  Where  is  the  sac- 
rifice of  personal  advantage?  It  may  be  that  the 
time  may  come  when  the  lion  will  lie  down  with  the 
lamb  :  believe  me,  ladies,  that  time  is  not  yet.  For 
private  slights  and  insults  it  may  even  be  possible, 
with  some,  to  turn  the  other  cheek.  As  yet,  how- 
ever, the  words  are  to  be  taken  as  a  prophecy  rather 
than  a  command." 

At  nine  o'clock  Molly  brought  up  supper.  At  the 
appearance  of  the  tray,  my  cousin  appeared  anxious, 
but  her  countenance  cleared  when  she  saw  what  was 
on  it.  For  our  supper  was  commonly  a  slice  or  two 
of  bread  with  a  little  soft  cheese  and  a  glass  of  wine. 
This  incomparable  Molly,  finding  that  the  gentlemen 
did  not  withdraw,  stepped  round  to  Rider  Street, 
behind  St.  James's  Street,  and  returned  with  a  cold 
roast  chicken,  some  slices  of  ham,  a  greengage  pie, 
and  two  or  three  tarts — it  was  not  for  nothing  that 
the  maid  had  lived  with  a  wealthy  Quaker,  at  whose 
house,  though  the  outlook  of  the  soul  was  doubtful 
that  of  the  body  was  always  secured.  Well  might  my 
cousin  change  countenance  at  the  sight  of  so  dainty 
a  supper,  which,  when  laid  out  on  the   clean  white 


9^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

cloth,  with  the  blue  china  and  glass,  the  silver  spoons, 
and  the  ivory-handled  steel  forks  of  which  my  cousin 
was  justly  proud— and  embellished  with  a  bottle  of 
Madeira,  her  late  husband's  best — was  a  supper  to 
tempt  a  nobleman. 

"  Pray,  gentlemen,"  she  cried  with  smiling  mock 
humility,  "  do  not  leave  us  " — for  they  both  rose  at 
sight  of  the  supper — "to  our  simple  meal.  I  have  but 
what  you  see,  but  indeed  you  will  make  us  happy  if 
you  partake  of  it  with  us." 

So  they  sat  down,  and  my  cousin  carved,  while 
Edward  poured  out  the  wine,  not  touching  his  glass 
until  his  brother  had  first  tasted.  "This,"  he  said, 
"is  a  feast  for  the  gods.  Ah,  ladies,  could  you  but 
behold  us  a  thousand  miles  at  sea  with  our  salt  junk 
and  our  weevilly  biscuit !  I  thank  you.  Madam  :  the 
leg  was  ever  my  favourite  part  of  the  bird  :  let  me  give 
you  a  slice  of  ham.  Brother,  you  let  your  glass  stand 
too  long — he  is  but  a  one-legged  creature :  he  bears 
too  heavy  a  load  :  lighten  him  a  little.  Miss  Nancy 
— nay — one  more  glass."  I  think  I  see  him  now — 
making  so  much  of  this  grand  feast — laughing  and 
talking.  "  On  Saturday  night,"  he  said,  "  we  give  our- 
selves a  little  happiness  in  drinking  to  our  mistresses : 
but  it  is  a  shadowy  joy :  a  winter's  sunshine,  which 
only  pretends  to  warm.  This  ham.  Madam,  must 
have  graced  a  porker  of  Westphalia.  The  Madeira 
has  been  more  than  once  to  India — that  I  dare  affirm 
without  taking  an  oath  in  the  presence  of  Miss  Nancy." 

"  It  has  been  three  times  to  India,"  said  my  cousin 
proudly.     "  My  husband  was  choice  in  his  wine." 


"My  Brother,  Sir  George/'  91 

Supper  over,  they  invited  us  to  play  on  the  harpsi- 
chord. My  cousin  obeyed,  and  I  saw  that  Sir  George 
possessed  a  soul  sensible  to  the  power  of  music.  My 
cousin  played  with  great  taste  and  skill :  she  played, 
first  of  all,  some  of  the  music  of  that  famous  composer, 
Handel ;  then  she  changed  the  theme,  and  played  in 
a  lighter  strain.  Both  our  visitors  listened  intently  : 
but  the  elder  was  more  moved.  Then  she  struck  into 
the  air  of  a  song. 

"  Shall  Nancy  sing  to  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  prom- 
ise you  she  hath  a  charming  voice,  though  as  yet  it 
is  not  completely  trained." 

They  begged  and  entreated,  though  I  would  will- 
ingly have  been  excused.  So,  while  she  played  an 
accompaniment,  I  sang  a  song  which  she  had  taught 
me.  The  words  were  her  own,  set  to  the  air  called 
*'  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes."  Isabel  wrote  the 
words  herself  one  day  after  discoursing  with  me  on  the 
wiclcedness  of  forbidding  music  to  the  people  called 
Quakers.     She  called  the  song  "  Life  and  Song  " — 

The  thrushes  sing  fro7n  yonder  wood. 

The  lark  from  yonder  sky  ; 
And  all  day  long  the  sweet  wmd''s  song 

Among  the  leaves  doth  lie. 
Oh  I  gently  touch  the  magic  string. 

Let  soft  strains  rise  and  fall. 
So  that  our  thoughts  in  concert  sing 

With  birds  and  leaves  and  all. 

The  birds  love  sun  and  light  and  air . 

The  glories  of  the  day  : 
The  living  things,  both  foul  and  fair, 

Rejoice  to  live  alway. 


92  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

Oh  !  gently  to7ich  the  magic  strmg  ; 

Let  soft  strains  rise  and  fall  : 
So  that  our  songs  of  praise  we  sing 

In  concert  with  them  all. 

The  birds  they  sing  :  the  birds  they  love: 

List  I  mate  his  mate  invites. 
All  living  things  around,  above. 

They  know  the  same  delights. 
Oh  !  gently  touch  the  magic  string. 

Let  soft  strains  rise  aftdfall  : 
So  that  our  hearts  of  lozfe  may  sing 

In  concert  with  them  all. 

"  Let  me  thank  you,  Miss  Nancy.  Such  a  voice, 
with  such  a  face,  is  rarely  seen."  It  was  Sir  George 
who  spoke.  "  Perhaps  we  may  have  the  happiness  of 
hearing  another  song." 

"  No,  gentlemen,"  Isabel  said,  shutting  the  harpsi- 
chord. "We  would  not  tire  your  ears.  If  it  pleases 
you  to  come  again,  Nancy  shall  sing  again  and  I  will 
play  to  you.  And  now  let  me  offer  you  a  simple  glass 
of  punch.  It  is  a  custom  of  the  City,  to  which  both 
my  father  and  my  husband  belonged." 

"  Willingly,  Madam."  Edward  spoke  in  the  name 
of  his  brother,  for  both.  "  Most  willingly,  especially 
if  you  will  permit  me  to  make  it,  as  we  make  it  at  sea 
— I  think  you  will  own  that  even  servants  taught  by 
you  cannot  make  punch  so  well  as  a  sailor.  Afar  from 
love — torn  from  his  sweetheart — what  comfort  for  the 
sailor  but  his  punch  ?  " 

So  Molly  brought  the  hot  water,  the  lemons,  sugar, 
spice,  and  the  rum  in  a  decanter,  with  the  punch  bowl 


**My  Brother,  Sir  George/'  93 

— be  sure  that  it  was  Isabel's  best  punch  bowl — that 
reserved  by  her  husband  for  the  refreshment  of  the 
pious  company  which  frequented  his  house — and  a 
beautiful  bowl  it  was,  thin  as  an  egg,  painted  with 
flowers,  gilt-edged,  and,  if  you  struck  it  lightly,  giving 
out  a  note  as  clear  as  a  bell  and  almost  as  loud. 

You  could  imagine  that  the  making  of  punch  was  a 
mighty  mystery,  so  great  was  the  attention  bestowed 
upon  it  by  the  maker  of  it.  He  pushed  back  his  ruffles  ; 
he  spread  out  his  materials  around  him :  then,  with  an 
air  of  boundless  importance,  he  began. 

There  is  this  difference  between  men  and  women, 
that  whatever  men  like  to  do  it  is  with  a  will :  they  put 
into  it,  for  the  time,  all  their  heart ;  women,  on  the 
other  hand,  save  for  what  touches  their  affections  and 
their  dress,  do  everything  as  if  it  mattered  not  whether 
it  was  ill  done  or  well  done.  No  woman  could  possi- 
bly think  that  in  the  brewing  of  punch  so  much  care 
was  necessary.  To  be  sure  I  have  seen  equal  care  be- 
stowed (by  a  man)  upon  the  boiling  of  an  egg  or  the 
composition  of  a  sallet. 

First  he  cut  his  lemons  ;  then  he  rubbed  the  bowl 
with  the  rind  ;  after  this  he  opened  the  decanter  and 
sniffed  at  the  contents.  "  Ha !  "  he  said,  *'  I  have  not 
been  in  the  Navy  for  nothing.  This  is  right  Barba- 
does ;  your  true  West  Indian  spirit — twenty  years  old, 
if  it  is  a  day.  Your  lamented  husband,  dear  Madam, 
knew  punch  as  well  as  Madeira !  " 

"  He  also  knew  Port  and  Rhenish  and  Canary — and, 
indeed  every  wine  there  is.  He  had  no  equal  as  a 
connoisseur." 


94  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  " — Edward  began  to  squeeze  his 
lemons — "  that  where  he  now  goes  to  Meeting,  these 
gifts  will  not  be  wasted."  Then  he  put  in  the  rum : 
added  a  glass  or  two  of  Madeira:  measured  out  the 
sugar  and  the  spice  with  anxious  eyes :  and  lastly, 
poured  over  all  the  hot  water.  Then  he  placed  the 
spoon  in  my  hand,  and  begged  me  to  stir  it.  "  For," 
he  said,  "the  one  thing  that  is  lacking  at  sea  is  the 
light  touch  of  a  woman's  hand.  Believe  me,  Miss 
Nancy,  there  is  a  persuasiveness  in  the  stirring  of  the 
bowl  by  a  lovely  woman  which  induces  the  materials 
to  combine  and  mix  with  a  will  and  a  completeness, 
which  not  even  the  youngest  volunteer  at  sea  can  in- 
duce." 

So  I  stirred,  laughing,  and  presently  Edward  de- 
clared the  punch  ready,  and,  indeed,  thanks  to  my 
stirring,  perfection. 

He  poured  out  five  full  glasses  and  bestowed  one 
upon  each,  including  Molly,  who  stood  by  wondering 
and  pleased.  Then  he  stood  up  and  addressed  his 
brother.     "  George,"  he  said,  "  a  toast." 

"  I  drink,"  said  George,  "  to  the  fair  Quakeress,  Miss 
Nancy."  So,  with  a  little  maidenly  blush  which  be- 
came him,  he  drank  half  a  glass  and  set  it  down.  But 
his  brother  drank  two  glasses  one  after  the  other,  say- 
ing that  the  toast  deserved  nine  times  nine. 

Then,  for  it  was  now  already  ten  o'clock,  they  de- 
parted, promising  that  they  would  speedily  call  again. 

"  The  elder,"  said  my  cousin,  when  they  were  gone, 
"  is  a  young  man  whose  face  announces,  unless  I  am 
mistaken,  both  honour  and  resolution — I  think  that  he 


•'  SU    I    bXIKKEU,  LALGUING.   —Filge   g^. 


'^My  Brother,  Sir  George***  95 

is  rich  because  his  brother  deferred  so  deeply  to  his 
opinion.  Younger  brothers  do  not  so  regard  their 
elders  where  there  is  no  estate  to  inherit.  I  observed, 
Nancy,  that  while  the  younger  brother  talked  and 
laughed,  the  elder  sat  gazing  tenderly." 

"Nay,  cousin,  at  his  first  visit?  Curiously,  per- 
haps. He  looked  about  the  room  with  a  strange  curi- 
osity. He  seemed  unaccustomed  to  such  rooms  as 
these." 

"Well,  child,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  it  was — ten- 
derly." 

"Isabel!     What  can  he  know  of  my  mind?" 

"  Truly,  very  little,  my  dear,  unless  the  face  pro- 
claims the  mind,  in  which  case  he  need  be  under  no 
apprehensions.  Nancy,  child,  it  is  not  a  woman's 
mind  that  a  young  man  inquires  after  :  her  face,  to  him, 
proclaims  her  mind  :  her  lovely  face,  my  dear,  and  her 
bewitching  form  proclaim  possible  virtues  and  all  pos- 
sible wisdom." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 
The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman. 

Every  woman  is  at  heart  a  match-maker.  This 
proposition  is  generally  advanced  as  an  accusation  or 
charge  against  the  sex.  On  the  contrary,  it  should  be 
considered  as  a  part  of  the  eulogy  which  must  be 
pronounced  on  women  b^  every  candid  man.  For, 
that  every  woman  should  be  a  match-maker  proves 
the  natural  kindness  of  her  heart,  and  that  in  spite  of 
the  (so-called)  feminine  jealousies  commonly  attrib- 
uted to  her.  Nothing  is  more  desired,  or  more  desir- 
able, by  a  woman  than  love :  all  her  instincts  lead  her 
to  desire  love  :  it  is  love  that  raises  weak  woman  to 
be  mistress  instead  of  servant :  nay,  it  is  love  that 
makes  her  a  willing  and  happy  servant,  though  the 
mistress:  it  is  love  that  distinguishes  and  glorifies 
her :  it  is  love  that  makes  her  live  by  the  work  of 
other  hands  not  her  own :  it  is  love  that  gives  her 
more  than  the  full  share  of  her  lover's  good  fortune, 
and  enables  her  to  mitigate  and  console  him  in  adver- 
sity :  it  is  love  that  removes  from  her  the  loneliness 
of  the  soul  apart  :  finally,  it  is  love,  and  love  alone — 
even  past  love — which  lifts  her  out  of  the  apparent 
insignificance  of  her  lot. 

Every  woman  knows  this :  if  every  wonian,  know- 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  97 

ing  this,  desires  that  another  woman  should  be  loved 
as  well  as  herself,  then  must  every  woman's  heart  be 
truly  soft  and  kind,  and  anxious  for  the  general  hap- 
piness. 

My  cousin  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  She  as- 
sumed from  the  outset  that  love  brought  these  two 
gentlemen  to  visit  us.  Why  else  should  they  come? 
"My  dear,"  said  Isabel;  "one  of  them  is  in  love 
with  a  certain  person.  Of  that  we  may  be  assured. 
The  other  comes,  I  suppose — unless  he,  too,  is  in  love 
— to  lend  support  and  countenance." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  I  replied,  being  as  yet  unmoved. 
"They  make  no  signs  of  love.  What  is  a  woman  to 
do  whose  lover,  if  there  is  one,  makes  no  sign?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  which  it  is  "--we  were  still  at  the 
outset.  "  Nothing  astonishes  me  more  than  this  diffi- 
culty. Sometimes  I  think  it  is  one :  sometimes  I 
think  it  is  the  other.  I  have  seen  the  elder  brother 
gazing  upon  you  the  whole  evening  through :  the 
next  day,  perhaps,  it  is  the  younger.  However,  let 
us  have  patience.  The  flame  will  break  out  before 
long.  Meantime  let  us  attend,  my  dear,  with  even 
greater  solicitude,  to  our  ribbons  and  our  rags." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  study  the  mode  when  one  lives 
in  St.  James's  :  one  has  but  to  walk  down  the  street, 
which  is  filled  all  day  with  fine  people :  or  in  St. 
James's  Park :  or  in  the  Green  Park ;  to  see  how  the 
ladies  of  fashion  dress  and  rouge  and  patch. 

"  We  are  by  right  but  City  Madams,"  said  Isabel. 
"We  ought  to  be  living  within  the  sound  of  Bow 
Bells ;    yet  we  can  show  as  well  as  any  how  a  fine 


9^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

woman  may  set  off  her  charms.  And  as  for  charms, 
my  Nancy,  what  can  they  display  at  Court — in  face 
or  figure — finer  than  can  a  certain  person,  who  shall 
be  nameless  ?  " 

At  first  this  kind  of  talk  shamed  me.  Was,  I  asked, 
a  woman  to  be  praised  according  to  her  points,  like  a 
horse  or  a  dog  ?  Did  love  mean  nothing  more  than 
admiration  of  these  points  ? 

"  Nay,"  said  my  wise  cousin.  "  We  have  Nature 
behind  us,  and  before  us,  and  within  us  always.  We 
build  upon  Nature.  Dress,  for  instance,  keeps  us 
warm,  but  we  do  not  wrap  ourselves  in  a  blanket :  we 
build  the  structure  called  Fashion  upon  that  blanket. 
Love  begins  with  the  attraction  of  beauty,  but  with 
civilised  beings  it  doth  not  end  there.  My  husband 
once  owned  that  first  he  loved  me  for  my  face,  which 
he  was  pleased  to  admire  ;  but  afterwards  he  found 
other  things — those  which  belong  to  the  understand- 
ing— which  he  also  admired.  Yet  a  lovely  face  must 
ever  give  a  woman  the  highest  advantage.  Do  not 
despise  Nature,  my  dear." 

I  understand,  now,  that  she  was  right.  After  all,  it 
is  easy  for  a  girl  to  be  reconciled  to  the  rulings  of 
nature  when  she  has  been  endowed  with  what  men 
call  charms. 

"A  man,  in  a  word,"  Isabel  continued,  "is  first 
caught  by  a  face  and  afterwards  fixed — if  ever  he  can 
be  fixed — by  the  heart,  or  the  mind,  or  the  capability, 
or  some  other  charm,  real  or  imaginary,  of  which  the 
world  knows  nothing.  Thus  fixed,  it  is  for  life.  My 
dear,  the  only  man  a  woman  of  sensibility  as  well  as 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  99 

beauty  has  to  fear  is  the  dull  man — the  stupid  man 
—  who  cannot  understand  more  than  what  he  sees, 
and,  when  he  tires  of  one  face,  flies  off  to  another. 
Now  let  us  go  back  to  where  we  began,  that  is,  our 
ribbons  and  our  rags." 

Every  one  will  believe  me,  I  am  sure,  when  I  con- 
fess that,  although  a  Quakeress  by  breeding,  I  quickly 
discovered  how  great  a  pleasure  may  be  found  in  con- 
sidering dress  and  fashion  :  stuffs  and  shape  :  trim- 
mings and  ribbons  :  to  sit  in  a  shop  and  have  spread 
out  before  you  dazzling  things  in  flowered  silks,  satin, 
brocade,  or  velvet :  to  imagine  a  frock  glorified  with 
ribbons,  lace,  and  trimmings  :  to  choose  :  to  order  : 
to  try  on  before  a  long  glass  :  I  confess  that  to  my 
newly  aw-akened  sense  it  was  enchanting.  Every 
woman  will  understand  me.  But  let  no  man,  except 
those  of  the  Society,  blame  me :  let  him  try  to  under- 
stand that  a  woman's  dress  is  far  more  to  her  than  his 
own  can  be  to  him  :  to  the  latter  it  is  always,  more  or 
less,  his  working  dress,  like  the  leathern  apron  of  the 
blacksmith  ;  the  sign  of  his  occupation,  like  the  red 
cap  of  the  brewer,  or  the  brown  paper  cap  of  the  car- 
penter: or  his  fighting  dress,  like  the  cuirass  and  the 
helmet.  In  a  woman  dress  is  never  intended  for  work 
but  for  adornment  :  in  youth  it  proclaims,  and  en- 
shrines, and  sets  off  the  newly  blossomed  flower  of  her 
beauty :  and  in  age  it  conceals,  as  well  as  it  can,  the 
decay  and  final  disappearance  of  beauty.  It  also  pro- 
claims her  wealth  and  her  rank.  To  be  sure  I  had  no 
rank,  yet  my  cousin  dressed  me  as  fine  as  any  coun- 
tess, and  when  we  walked  in  the  park  the  other  women 


100  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

stared  at  us  with  the  rudeness  of  envy,  or  the  equal 
rudeness  of  curiosity.  Even  the  highest  rank,  I  have 
learned  by  this  experience,  does  not  always  confer 
good  breeding.  It  is  not  well  bred,  even  for  a  duchess, 
to  stare  after  a  new-comer  with  the  air  of  asking  what 
right  she  has  to  appear  among  a  well-dressed  com- 
pany, herself  well  dressed. 

I  am  not  therefore  ashamed  to  confess  that  during 
this  period  I  spent  much  time  standing  before  the 
mirror,  or  sitting  at  the  counter  of  the  mercer's  shop. 

"Cousin,"  I  said,  "what  if  my  brother  should  see 
me  now  ? "  'Twas  when  my  first  really  fine  frock 
came  home,  and  I  stood  in  grandeur,  hoop  and  all, 
ready  to  sally  forth  into  the  park. 

"  Quakeress,"  she  laughed,  speaking  in  the  old 
style.  "  Will  thee  still  be  thinking  about  thy  brother? 
Thee  are  but  a  goose.  I  do  not  think  that  some  one 
will  ever  suffer  thee  to  go  back  to  him." 

Did  I,  then,  lay  myself  out,  consciously,  to  attract 
and  captivate  a  man,  like  the  woman  in  the  Book 
of  Proverbs?  Nay:  that  can  I  never  confess.  Sure 
I  am  that  if  any  woman  should  read  this  page,  she 
will  forgive  me  for  wishing  to  appear  becomingly 
dressed. 

These  friends  of  ours  called  upon  us  a  second  time  : 
and  a  third  time  :  and  again  and  again  :  they  made 
excuses  for  calling:  they  brought  presents — an  en- 
graving for  my  cousin  :  some  fine  silver-work  from 
India  for  me :  a  book,  because  we  loved  books — al- 
ways something  new.  Of  course  when  they  had  offered 
their  gifts,  they  sat  down  and  talked.     After  a  week 


MANY    II.MES    AS    WE   WALKED    WITH   THEM,  PEOPLE    GAZEU 

UPON  US  CURIOUSLY." — Page  tot. 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman*  lot 

or  two,  they  came  every  day,  either  in  the  morning  or 
in  the  evening. 

In  August  the  fashionable  part  of  town  is  empty. 
The  great  people  come  up  from  the  country  in  Janu- 
ary and  leave  in  June.  The  park  is  therefore  nearly 
empty  during  that  month.  Sometimes  we  walked 
with  our  friends  in  the  deserted  paths  of  St.  James's 
Park  :  sometimes  we  saw  the  soldiers  exercising  in  the 
Green  Park  :  sometimes  we  watched  the  Trooping  of 
the  Colour  at  St.  James's  Palace.  Many  times  as  we 
walked  with  them,  Sir  George  beside  me,  and  Edward 
with  Isabel,  hats  were  taken  off  and  people  gazed  upon 
us  curiously,  especially  upon  me.  "  They  are,  I  sup- 
pose," he  would  say  carelessly,  "  acquaintances  of 
mine.  A  great  many  people  know  me.  Not  every- 
body. Yet  they  gaze  upon  you.  Miss  Nancy,  for  very 
good  reasons  which  I  need  not  explain." 

Meantime,  I  could  no  longer  disguise  from  myself 
the  knowledge  that  Sir  George  came  to  see  me,  and 
that  the  brother  came  simply  to  accompany  him. 
And  it  was  manifest  that  the  younger  brother's  defer- 
ence to  the  elder  was  always  most  marked  and  un- 
usual. On  the  other  hand,  Sir  George  accepted  this 
deference  as  if  it  were  his  due — yet  not  arrogantly. 

I  have  told  you  that  Sir  George  was  a  young  man 
of  singularly  fine  appearance.  Let  me  talk  about  him 
again.  His  large  and  open  face  showed  the  nobility 
of  his  soul :  honour,  truth,  loyalty,  bravery,  were 
stamped  upon  it;  his  eyes  were  always  full  of  light, 
and — oh  !  to  think  of  it ! — I  have  seen  them  full  of 
love  and  tenderness.     He  wore  his  hair  powdered  and 


102  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

tied  behind  in  a  bow  of  black  ribbon  ;  his  gold  lace, 
his  gold  buckles,  were  of  the  finest  ;  his  dress  was  that 
of  a  rich  young  rnan.  In  his  speech  he  was  rapid,  but 
authoritative  ;  his  voice  was  musical  and  sweet. 

In  his  manner  he  was  extremely  afTable  :  he  wore 
habitually  the  gracious  smile  that  belongs  to  a  good 
heart.  I  have  since  learned  that  he  could  be  peremp- 
tory, and  even  harsh  on  occasions  :  as  when  his  orders 
were  not  obeyed.  For  myself,  I  cannot  understand 
how  he  could  ever  be  harsh.  The  mere  look  of  re- 
proach in  those  eyes,  always  so  kindly,  would  have 
made  me  sink  into  the  earth. 

It  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to  recall  some  of  the  opinions 
and  judgments  which  he  delivered  in  my  presence  ; 
and,  indeed,  addressed  chiefly  to  myself.  And  since 
it  is  interesting  to  the  world  to  know  what  were  the 
private  sentiments  and  the  opinions  of  a  great  man  in 
his  younger  days,  while  still  a  (comparatively)  private 
person,  I  propose  to  pause  in  my  story  in  order  to  set 
down  some  of  those  which  I  remember.  There  are 
times  when  I  seem  to  remember  every  word  that  he 
ever  said  :  there  are  other  times  (those  of  depression) 
when  many  of  his  words  seem  to  escape  me.  His 
opinions  may  have  been  founded  on  imperfect  knowl- 
edge :  but  they  were  always  such  as  a  noble  mind 
would  form  and  hold. 

Sometimes  we  read  poetry^  but  neither  of  the 
brothers  cared  greatly  for  verse  :  they  were  not  open 
to  the  influence  of  the  Muse :  they  were  not  moved 
by  poetry,  though  my  cousin  read,  or  declaimed,  as 
well  as  any  actress.     When  I  ventured  to  remonstrate 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  103 

with  Sir  George  on  this  apparent  insensibility,  "  If  I 
were  a  woman,"  he  said,  "  I  should  read  poetry.  Men 
act,  women  look  on  :  they  like  to  hear,  if  they  cannot 
see,  how  a  thing  is  done.  The  poet  fights  the  battle 
over  again  for  their  instruction." 

"  But,  Sir,"  I  ventured  to  say,  "  the  actors  are  few, 
the  spectators  are  many,  and  they  are  not  all  women." 

"  Let  us  say,  then,  that  poets  write  not  for  men  of 
action.  That  is  to  say,  not  for  kings  and  princes; 
generals  and  admirals,  statesmen,  lawmakers,  judges, 
bishops,  divines.  See  how  large  a  number  are  excluded, 
for  these  are  the  men  of  action,  who  care  little  how 
a  thing  is  described  so  that  it  is  done  well.  For  my- 
self, it  is  possible  that  I,  too,  shall  be  numbered  here- 
after among  those  who  act.  Do  you  think  that  I 
shall  concern  myself  about  the  gentry  who  are  trying 
to  make  crozvn  rhyme  to  frozvn  ?  It  is  a  necessary 
condition  imposed  upon  the  man  who  acts  that  he 
should  be  the  prey  of  the  man  who  writes.  Poets 
eulogise  the  men  who  are  successful.  They  are  the 
slanderers  of  the  men  who  are  defeated.  Miss  Nancy, 
the  poets  do  not  write  for  the  leaders,  but  for  those 
who  are  led :  they  write,  I  say,  for  the  spectators :  for 
the  herd :  for  the  people  who  obey,  and  for  the  women 
who  look  on.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  for  the  life  of 
me  understand  the  admiration  with  which  the  world 
regards  the  poets,  or  the  vanity  with  which  they  regard 
themselves." 

"  Does  not  their  vanity  spring  from  the  world's 
admiration?"  I  ventured  to  ask.  "If  we  did  not 
admire  and  love  their  worlcs  thev  would  not  be  vain  ?  " 


164  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  Yet — what  is  it  we  admire  ?  A  feat  of  arms  finely 
described  :  yet,  Miss  Nancy,  the  feat  of  arms  is  neither 
better  nor  worse  for  the  description.  The  poet  does 
not  make  it.     He  only  talks  about  it." 

"  He  makes  kings  immortal.  Sir.  Who  would  know, 
after  all  these  years,  anything  of  the  Siege  of  Troy  but 
for  Homer's  Epic  and  Pope's  Translation  ?  " 

"  A  general  or  a  prince  should  so  live  that  he  should 
carve  his  name  himself  in  immortal  granite  never  to 
be  forgotten.  I  hear  that  they  accuse  the  King  of 
neglecting  poets.  What  should  he  do  for  them  ?  If 
they  are  good  poets  they  become  so  without  the 
King's  help.  Why  should  the  King  encourage  them  ? 
Elizabeth  did  not  encourage  Shakspere,  who  got  on 
very  well,  I  believe,  without  her  support.  Kings  must 
encourage  the  soldiers  who  defend  the  nation  and 
extend  her  glory  :  and  statesmen  who  administrate  the 
country  :  and  merchants  who  increase  her  wealth  :  and 
scholars  who  preserve  her  religion  :  but  poets !  Let 
those  for  whom  the  poets  write  maintain  the  poets. 
Therefore,  Miss  Nancy,  I  prefer  those  who  make  the 
history  of  the  world  :  that  is,  the  Kings  who  rule  :  to 
the  men  who  write  verses  upon  them." 

"  But,  Sir,"  I  said,  "  there  are  other  poets  besides 
those  who  write  epics.  There  are  pastoral  poets,  reli- 
gious poets :  those  who  write  love  poems  :  those  who 
write  drinking  songs  :  satirists " 

"  There,  indeed,"  he  said,  "  I  congratulate  you.  Miss 
Nancy.  The  pastoral  poets  talk  about  the  warblers 
in  the  bosky  grove  and  the  enamelled  lawns.  When 
I  walk  in  my  gardens  at  Kew  I  see  the  flowers  and 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  105 

I  hear  the  birds.  It  would  make  me  no  happier  if  I 
could  repeat  dozens  of  rhymes  upon  them.  As  for 
drinking-songs,  you  would  not  like  my  brother  to  troll 
out  in  this  room  some  low  sailor's  drinking-song  :  and 
as  for  satire,  it  is,  truly,  a  fine  thing  to  invent  lies  and 
to  take  away  another  man's  character.  Of  love-songs, 
however,  I  must  speak  with  respect,  because  my 
father,  who  loved  the  arts  of  every  kind,  wrote  at 
least  two.  One,  which  I  remember,  was  addressed  to 
his  mistress — that  is,  his  wife." 

We  begged  him  to  recite  it. 

"  I  would  rather  sing  it  for  you,"  he  replied. 

This  was  a  new  discovery.  He  could  touch  the 
harpsichord  and  sing.  His  voice,  I  have  already  said, 
was  musical  :  it  was  also  true  to  time  and  tune.  The 
words  which  I  took  down  were  as  follows.  I  give  the 
best — which  were  the  first  two  verses  and  the  last — 


'  T/s  not  the  liquid  brightness  of  thine  eyes. 
That  swim  with  pleasure  and  delight. 

Nor  those  two  heavenly  arches  which  arise 
O'er  each  of  the^n  to  shade  their  light. 

'  Tis  not  that  hair  which  plays  with  every  wind, 
And  loves  to  wanton  round  thy  face  : 

Now  strayi?tg  roiind  the  forehead,  now  behind. 
Retiring  with  insidious  grace. 

No  :  'tis  that  gentleness  of  mind,  that  love 

So  kindly  answering  my  desire  : 
Thai  grace  with  which  you  look  and  speak  and  move 

That  thus  has  set  my  soul  07i  fire. 


io6  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

After  this  he  often  sang  to  us.  "At  home,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  sing,  they  all  fall  into  ecstasies.  Sure 
never  was  heard  so  fine  a  singer!  Never  was  heard  so 
fine  a  voice !  From  your  lips,  dear  ladies,  alone  can  I 
learn  the  truth  and  have  my  faults  corrected,  and  so 
improve.  If  singing  is  a  trifle  worth  doing,  it  is  worth 
taking  trouble  about."  My  cousin  had  told  him  that 
he  hissed  his  consonants  too  much,  and  ran  words  to- 
gether which  should  be  separate.  "  Nay — but,  indeed, 
I  thank  you  for  your  criticisms.  Perhaps  another 
evening  I  may  prove  that  I  have  laid  your  instructions 
to  heart." 

Of  books  and  authors  he  entertained  as  poor  an 
opinion  as  of  poets.  "  If  a  gentleman  chooses,"  he 
said,  "  to  entertain  the  world  with  his  thoughts,  I  sup- 
pose he  may  do  so,  though  it  would  be  more  dignified 
to  communicate  them  to  his  private  friends  only,  as 
many  learned  scholars  and  wits  prefer  to  do.  But  as 
for  these  ragged  fellows  who  hang  about  booksellers' 
•shops  ;  write  vile  pamphlets  on  either  side  for  money  ; 
sell  their  pens  to  all  comers  ;  praise  or  slander  accord- 
ing to  pay,  and  supply  whatever  is  wanted  at  a  guinea 
a  sheet — this,  I  hear,  is  the  rule — why,  I  think  such  a 
trade  most  contemptible  and  most  hateful." 

*'  But,"  I  said,  "  authors  move  the  world  through 
the  imagination,  either  by  a  play,  or  a  poem,  or  a 
romance." 

"  Why,  if  so,  how  is  your  author  better  than  a 
buffoon  who  makes  the  people  laugh  ?  He  is  but  a 
Jack  Pudding  and  a  Merry  Andrew  at  best.  If  we 
condescend  to  laugh  at  such  a  fellow  we  despise  him 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  107 

still.  Pitiful  trade,  to  make  idle  people  laugh  or  cry  ! 
But  perhaps  there  are  people  who  do  not  think  so. 
Otherwise  no  one  would  be  proud  to  take  up  the 
trade." 

I  submitted  with  humility  that  many  of  these 
authors  wrote  with  a  serious  intention,  for  the  pro- 
motion of  Virtue.  And  I  instanced  that  remarkable 
work,  "  Clarissa,"  by  the  ingenious  Mr.  Samuel 
Richardson. 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  book,"  he  said  :  "  I  doubt, 
however,  whether  virtue  can  be  advanced  by  the  de- 
lineation of  vice  or  the  contemplation  of  virtue 
brought  to  ruin.  Besides,  this  advocacy  of  virtue  be- 
longs to  Divines  and  to  religion.  Tell  me,  Miss 
Nancy,  if  the  Gospel,  which  contains  the  Word  of 
God,  fails  to  inculcate  virtue,  can  we  expect  success 
from  a  printer  of  Fleet  Street?" 

He  would,  in  fact,  admit  only  as  worthy  of  encour- 
agement, books  of  instruction,  such  as  works  on  agri- 
culture, inventions,  medicine,  surgery,  arts  and  crafts, 
and  the  like.  Much  reading,  he  thought,  made  a  man 
rely  on  books  more  than  upon  himself.  "  Consider  a 
gardener,"  he  said.  "  I  dare  swear  that  none  of  my 
gardeners  know  how  to  read.  Yet,  what  a  vast  field 
of  knowledge  belongs  to  them  :  they  know  the  trees 
and  the  flowers  and  the  roots  and  the  vegetables,  with 
everything  belonging  to  them  :  each  kind  of  tree,  and 
how  it  lives  and  flourishes:  its  soil:  its  health  and 
diseases.  They  know  all  the  birds  and  their  customs  : 
there  is  no  end  to  the  knowledge  of  a  gardener.  What 
book  can  teach  this  knowledge  ?  " 


io8  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

One  must  confess  that  this  kind  of  knowledge  can- 
not be  imparted  by  books. 

"  As  for  me,"  he  went  on,  "  I  find  that  I  learn  best 
if  I  learn  by  the  word  of  mouth.  Whether  it  is  in 
the  art  of  war  or  the  art  of  government,  I  do  not  care 
to  read  so  much  as  to  listen  :  then  I  turn  over  in  my 
mind  what  I  have  heard,  and  there  it  sticks.  How 
much  better  is  this  than  the  printed  book,  where 
one  always  sees  the  peacock  author  strutting  about 
and  crying,  '  Hear  me!  Behold  me!  See  these  fine 
feathers  !     How  clever  I  am  !  '  " 

Such  were  his  opinions  on  poets  and  authors.  He 
did  not  advance  them  with  the  diffidence  that  one 
finds  in  most  young  men  :  such  diffidence,  for  instance, 
as  is  due  to  the  presence  of  older  or  more  experienced 
persons:  such  diffidence  as  one  acquires  by  frequent- 
ing places  where  men  congregate:  as  the  halls  and 
common  rooms  of  colleges;  coffee-houses  and  taverns. 
This  young  man  spoke  as  if  he  had  been  encouraged 
to  think  his  own  opinions  of  the  greatest  importance  : 
this,  indeed,  as  you  will  presently  understand,  was  the 
case. 

His  opinions,  again,  were  such  as  one  would  expect 
of  a  young  man  living  out  of  the  world  :  that  is  to  say, 
apart  from  the  folk  who  do  the  work  and  are  anxious 
about  their  daily  bread.  His  views  of  human  nature 
were  not  based  on  a  sufficiently  wide  observation. 
Yet  they  were  remarkable,  you  will  own,  for  their 
sound  justice. 

We  spoke  of  plays.  I  mentioned  that  I  knew  them 
only  by  reading,  for  I  had  never  been  to  the  theatre. 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  109 

"  A  play,"  he  said,  "  is  the  representation  of  history 
or  fable  by  action  accompanied  by  dialogue  proper  to 
the  situation.  If  you  only  read  a  play  you  have  to 
imagine  a  succession  of  situations,  which  continually 
change  as  they  follow  the  course  of  the  story.  I  con- 
fess that  my  own  imagination  is  too  dull  and  the 
effort  is  too  great  for  this.  If  you  will  permit  me  to 
accompany  you  to  the  play  you  will  see  a  thousand 
beauties  in  the  story  which  you  never  guessed  by 
reading." 

I  said  that  in  my  youth  I  was  taught  that  the  thea- 
tre is  the  house  of  the  Devil. 

"  Why,"  he  replied,  "  so  is  this  house,  and  every 
house,  unless  we  keep  him  out.  Miss  Nancy's  face 
would  frighten  him  even  out  of  the  playhouse." 

"  But,"  said  my  cousin,  "  I  have  always  understood 
that  vice  is  open  and  unrestrained  at  the  playhouse. 
How  can  a  gentlewoman  venture  into  such  a  place  ?  " 

"  At  first,"  he  replied,  "  you  will  wonder  what  a 
gentlewoman  has  to  do  in  such  a  place :  you  will  see 
the  people  fighting  in  the  gallery,  brawling  in  the  pit, 
the  fellows  staring  at  the  pretty  women  in  the  boxes, 
the  painted  Jezebels  laughing  loud  and  staring  at  the 
men,  the  footmen  in  their  gallery  whistling  and  calling 
and  bawling,  the  music  making  noise  enough  to  crack 
your  ears,  and  the  orange-girls  shrieking  above  all. 
But  as  soon  as  the  piece  begins  you  forget  all  that 
offended  you  before :  your  eyes  will  be  fixed  upon  the 
stage :  you  will  be  carried  quite  out  of  yourself :  you 
will  think  of  nothing  but  the  story  which  they  act. 
They  are  not  afraid — these  actors — to  place  even  Kings 


no  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

and  Queens  upon  the  stage :  the  Majesty  of  Kings, 
which  is  conveyed  to  them  by  the  holy  Chrism,  they 
cannot,  of  course,  imitate  :  but  the  dignity  of  a  Queen 
have  I  seen  represented  with  wonderful  power.  That, 
Miss  Nancy,  is,  I  suppose,  because  all  women  are  born 
to  command." 

"  Well,  but,"  I  said,  still  thinking  of  the  authors  and 
the  poets,  "  every  play  must  be  written  by  some  one, 
who  invents  also  the  fable  or  plot." 

"  Nobody  asks  who  wrote  it.  The  playwright  finds 
his  plot  somewhere  ;  he  does  not  invent  it.  He  ar- 
ranges it  first,  and  then  writes  the  words  afterwards. 
But  the  words  are  nothing :  it  is  the  scene  and  the  sit- 
uation that  carry  us  out  of  ourselves.  The  play  is 
not  made  by  the  author,  but  by  the  actor,  to  whom 
alone  should  be  given  the  credit." 

Now  to  this  opinion,  that  the  words  are  nothing, 
and  that  the  play  is  made  by  the  actor,  not  the  au- 
thor, my  cousin,  who  loved  the  reading  of  plays,  de- 
murred, and  a  long  argument  followed,  which  I  omit 
because  nothing  was  settled,  and  to  this  day  I  know 
not  whether  a  play  owes  more  to  the  poet  or  to  the 
actor. 

In  a  word,  he  loved  the  play,  which  moved  him 
deeply,  but  he  cared  nothing  for  the  fine  poetry  or  the 
noble  sentiments  :  what  moved  him  were  the  situa- 
tions, the  things  that  happened  :  Richard  the  Second 
in  prison  filled  him  with  pity :  the  fine  verses  put  into 
the  King's  mouth  by  the  poet  moved  him  not  at  all. 

"  If  I  were  a  schoolmaster,"  he  said,  "  I  would  teach 
history  by  means  of  plays,  to  be  acted  by  the  boys. 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  m 

The  schoolmaster  would  arrange  the  play  and  the 
boys  would  make  their  own  words." 

Sometimes  we  sat  down  to  play  cards.  His  favour- 
ite game  was  that  called  Comet.  I  believe  that  the 
Founder  of  our  Society  called  them  the  Devil's  pic- 
tures, or  something  equally  severe.  Surely,  had  he 
seen  our  innocent  games,  at  which  no  one  wept  at 
losing  or  rejoiced  at  winning,  he  would  have  changed 
his  opinion.  Cards,  I  apprehend,  like  wine,  dress,  and 
many  other  things,  are  what  we  make  of  them.  On 
this  subject  he  was  quite  clear  and  decided.  He 
played  with  interest,  but  it  was  the  interest  of  watch- 
ing the  chances  and  varying  fortunes  of  the  cards, 
which  sometimes  wantonly  strip  a  player  of  all  he  has, 
and  at  other  times,  with  no  more  reason,  load  him 
with  wealth. 

"  A  gentleman,"  he  said,  "  must  not  play  above  his 
means  :  let  him  lose  no  more  than  he  will  never  miss, 
and  win  no  more  than  will  not  make  him  rich.  Let  us 
not  see  your  lovely  face.  Miss  Nancy,  distorted  by  the 
anxieties  of  the  gamester.  Sometimes,  at  my  moth- 
er's card  parties,  I  watch  the  ladies  over  their  play. 
Heavens  !  If  they  only  mark  the  havoc  which  play 
can  make  upon  a  woman's  face  !  What  lover  would 
not  fly  in  horror  from  his  mistress  when  he  saw  her 
snatch  up  her  cards  ;  bite  her  lips  ;  turn  white  and  red 
through  her  rouge :  when  her  eyes  are  filled  with 
tears  :  when  her  voice  chokes  :  and  her  brow  wrinkles 
with  rage  and  despair?  Yet  the  next  night  they  are 
ready  to  begin  again !  Miss  Nancy,  you  have  again 
all  the  luck  of  the  cards." 


112  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

He  spoke  often  and  willingly  on  religion,  in  which 
he  was  firmly  attached  to  the  Established  Church: 
holding  in  pity  all  those  persons  who  dissent  from  the 
Thirty-Nine  Articles  ;  not,  as  some  clergymen  of  the 
Establishment  do,  treating  them  with  hatred  as  if 
they  were  criminals  :  or  derision,  as  if  their  judgment 
were  contemptible  :  but  with  a  sincere  and  deep- 
rooted  pity  that,  owing  to  some  early  prejudice  or 
confusion  of  brain,  they  should  not  be  able  to  discern 
the  truth.  He  knew  all  the  arguments  against  the 
Catholics,  and  wondered  openly  why  the  Pope  of 
Rome  did  not  acknowledge  the  English  Church  as  the 
only  true  form :  the  Jesuits,  and  the  Pretender's 
brother,  he  supposed,  kept  him  from  reading  the  sim- 
ple arguments  against  Popery.  As  for  the  Protestant 
sects,  he  knew  some  of  them — their  name  is  legion — 
and  what  was  to  be  said  against  them.  As  for  the 
Society  of  Friends,  he  had  been,  till  he  knew  us,  in 
complete  ignorance.  How  could  a  young  gentleman 
grow  up  in  ignorance  of  the  Society?  In  every  town 
the  Friends  are  to  be  found  :  always  in  trade  ;  always 
wealthy  ;  spoken  of  continually  on  account  of  their 
refusal  to  pay  tithes  ;  having  colonies  in  America  ;  be- 
longing more  largely  than  most  sects  to  the  history  of 
their  country  :  and  here  was  a  young  man  of  two-and- 
twenty  who  knew  nothing  of  them.  "  Who  are  they  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Why  were  they  called  Friends  ?  Why 
did  they  offer  no  resistance  ?  Why  did  they  refuse  to 
pay  tithes  and  Easter  dues?  By  what  arguments  did 
they  defend  their  position  ?  If  we  were  all  equal  it 
would  be  right  for  all  to  wear  the  same  dress  :  then  we 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  113 

ought  all  to  have  the  same  fortune."  He  took  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  knocking  down  the  doctrines  of 
my  people.  This,  I  daresay,  was  not  difficult  with 
two  women,  only  half-hearted,  against  him. 

"  I  take  my  doctrines,"  he  said,  "  from  the  Arch- 
bishops, the  Bishops,  and  the  Divines  of  my  own 
Church.  These  doctrines,  I  understand,  were  origi- 
nally laid  down  for  us  in  Hebrew,  Chaldean,  and  in 
Greek — perhaps  in  other  languages,  none  of  which 
do  I  understand,  even  if  I  had  them  laid  before  me. 
How,  then,  can  I  pretend  to  judge  of  these  doctrines, 
what  they  were  and  what  the  translation  should  be? 
Do  the  Quakers  understand  these  ancient  languages? 
I  think  not.  Yet  they  venture  to  construct  their  own 
interpretation.  This  is  presumption !  Do  they  also 
profess  to  expound  the  law  which  has  been  made  for 
them  by  successive  Kings  ?  Dear  Miss  Nancy,  there 
is  no  safety  among  such  people,  believe  me.  In  things 
religious,  above  all,  the  wise  must  lead  the  igno- 
rant." 

These  words  I  have  remembered  ever  since.  Of 
their  wisdom  I  have  now  no  doubt.  Scholarship  and 
learning  are  of  small  importance  except  for  the  acqui- 
sition of  wisdom  and  the  imparting  of  knowledge.  It 
is  to  the  Divines  that  the  world  at  large  must  look  for 
their  opinions. 

Sometimes  he  asked  questions  about  the  people — 
how  they  live,  how  they  work,  what  they  think,  of 
their  loyalty,  their  religion,  their  manners ;  betraying 
a  strange  ignorance  of  the  lower  classes  whom  we  of 
the  middle  sort  continually  meet  and  know. 


114  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  I  ought  to  know  some- 
thing of  these  people.  My  excuse  is  that  while  my 
brother  Edward  has  been  to  sea,  and  so  knows  the 
world,  I  have  had  to  live  at  home — for  reasons  which 
I  will  spare  you.  Few  indeed  are  the  houses  into 
which  I  have  gone:  few  are  the  people  outside  my 
own — relations — whom  I  know.  Therefore,  all  that 
you  tell  me  interests  me." 

My  cousin,  for  instance,  told  him  how  the  City  peo- 
ple of  the  better  class  live  :  she  described  her  own 
life  before  she  married  a  Quaker :  the  cheerful  life  of 
a  London  merchant's  daughter,  with  the  assembly 
once  a  week  in  winter :  the  country  drives  in  summer 
— to  Hampstead  and  Highgate  in  the  north,  to  Dul- 
wich  and  the  hanging  woods  of  Penge  in  the  south: 
the  card-parties  in  the  winter  evenings:  the  river 
parties  :  the  City  feasts  :  the  church  and  the  sermons  : 
the  visits  accompanied  by  a  'prentice  with  a  club  and 
a  lantern :  the  sets  and  coteries  and  the  different 
ranks  and  stations:  all  of  which  she  depicted  with 
much  vividness.  The  differences  in  position  he  could 
not  possibly  understand.  "  Rank,"  he  said,  "  very 
rightfully  belongs  to  the  Sovereign.  A  peer  would  not 
condescend  to  know  a  craftsman  :  but  why  is  a  lawyer 
above  a  schoolmaster? — a  merchant  above  a  shop- 
keeper?    They  are  all  commoners." 

"  The  quarterdeck  cannot  associate  with  the  foVsle," 
said  the  sailor. 

"There,  brother,  we  have  the  officer.  That  is  rank. 
That  we  understand." 

This  strange   ignorance  of  the  lower  walks  of  So- 


The  Opinions  of  a  Gentleman.  115 

ciety  seemed  connected  with  the  fact  that  his  mother, 
as  he  told  us,  was  a  foreigner. 

"  For  myself,"  he  said,  "  it  is  my  chief  pride  that  I 
am  born  an  Englishman." 

Then  he  raised  his  hand,  and  recited  these  verses — 
"  I  spoke  them,"  he  explained,  "  as  a  prologue  to  a 
play  when  I  was  thirteen  or  fourteen — 

"  Should  this  superior  to  my  years  be  thought. 
Know— 'tis  the  first  great  lesson  I  was  taught. 
What  ?     Ths  a  boy  I    It  may  with  pride  be  said; 
A  boy  :  in  England  born :  in  England  bred : 
Where  freedom  well  becomes  the  earliest  state. 
For  there  the  laws  of  Liberty  innate." 

These  lines  he  pronounced  (as  he  did  everything) 
with  the  utmost  sincerity.  He  could  never  under- 
stand the  differences  in  position  (rather  than  in  rank) 
which  make  the  pride  (or  the  misery)  of  so  many  of 
our  City  dames.  I  suppose  that  to  one  who  stands 
on  a  pinnacle,  or  looks  down  upon  the  world  from 
the  summit  of  some  high  mountain,  the  smaller  differ- 
ences vanish  :  all  becomes  a  plain  surface. 

**As  for  our  own  class,"  said  my  cousin,  "it  is  that 
of  the  sober  and  successful  merchant,  who  is  raised 
above  the  shopkeeper  by  his  superior  education  and 
knowledge :  by  his  superior  wealth :  and  by  the  mag- 
nitude of  his  enterprises." 

He  made  haste  to  compliment  her  as  to  her  own 
class. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  your  class  is  the  chief  glory  of 
the  country :  you  make  its  wealth  :  you  employ  the 


ii6  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

people.  Believe  me,  we  are  truly  sensible  of  the 
service  which  London  has  always  rendered  to  this 
country.  As  for  myself  and  my  brother,  we  hold  it  a 
singular  happiness  that  we  are  permitted  to  join  the 
society  of  so  much  virtue  and  so  much  refinement  as 
that  of  yourself  and  Miss  Nancy." 

We  both  acknowledged  this  compliment. 

"  Here,"  he  continued,  "  I  find  amusement  without 
rudeness  :  wit  without  coarseness,  and  " — he  rose,  for 
it  was  nearly  ten — "  friendship  without  self-seeking." 

He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  both  our  hands,  with  a 
humid  eye  which  betrayed  his  sensibility. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 
The  Christening  of  a  Convert* 

Every  history  is  like  a  journey  :  there  are  long 
stretches  of  road  dusty  or  muddy  with  joltings  and 
jostlings  in  the  deep  ruts  :  then  come  periods  of  rest, 
of  smooth  road,  of  pleasant  company.  One  such  mo- 
ment of  rest  and  refreshment  I  would  note  here,  if 
only  to  show  the  natural  piety  of  heart  which  distin- 
guished my  lover,  whom  I  must  still  call,  as  his  brother 
called  him,  Sir  George  le  Breton. 

I  write  these  words  in  my  summer-house :  there  are 
two  windows  in  it  :  one  of  them  looks  upon  the  val- 
ley of  the  Lea.  I  can  see  the  barges  towed  up  and 
down  the  river :  it  is  a  broad  flat  valley,  a  marsh  in 
winter,  a  meadow  in  summer:  day  after  day,  year 
after  year,  I  sit  and  gaze  across  this  expanse  broken 
only  by  the  meandering  stream.  Beyond  it  are  the 
low  hills  of  Essex.  As  this  landscape  so  is  my  life  :  it 
is  the  stream  w^iich  always  goes  on  towards  the  end : 
and  there  is  no  change'in  it :  nothing  happens. 

The  other  window  looks  upon  my  garden — a  brave 
garden  full  of  fruit  and  flowers.  The  garden  speaks 
to  me  daily.  It  says — I  gave  it  to  you — I  who  loved 
you  well — yet  not  as  he — the  other — loved  you.  Do 
not  forget  either  of  us — this  garden  is  so  full  of  fruits 


ii8  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

and  flowers  because  it  is  a  garden  of  Love.  When 
you  walk  in  it :  when  you  look  upon  it :  remember. 

As  if  I  could  ever  forget  !  The  days  pass :  the 
nights  pass :  the  suns  rise  and  set  :  I  desire  nothing  : 
I  expect  nothing  :  I  hope  nothing  :  I  have  no  friends  : 
I  live  only  in  the  past :  I  do  not  wish  to  die  because 
the  memory  of  the  past  is  precious  and  I  would  not  lose 
it :  I  console  myself  concerning  inevitable  death  with 
thinking  that  we  shall  preserve  the  memories  of  the 
past.  There  was  once  a  poet  who  wrote  that  there  is 
no  greater  misery  than  the  memory  of  past  joys.  No, 
no,  no  :  that  is  not  so.  I  would  not  for  all  the  world 
part  with  the  memory  of  my  past  joys.  They  make 
my  life  happy ;  they  give  me  pride  :  even  though,  I 
know,  the  people  at  church  whisper  that  this  is  the 

lady  who  was  once What  does  it  matter  what 

they  whisper  ?  Alas  !  A  woman's  heart  rules  her  in 
everything,  even  in  religion.  Sometimes  when  I  read 
Paul's  promises  concerning  the  future  life — where  he 
tells  us — this  great  consoler — that  eye  hath  not  seen  : 
nor  can  man's  mind  understand  :  the  glories,  the  joys, 
that  await  us  in  the  other  world,  I,  being  only  a  hum- 
ble and  unlettered  Avoman,  feel  that  unless  one  person 
is  there  with  me,  I  shall  be  insensible  to  those  joys. 
Again,  since  all  human  delights,  all  the  joys  and 
pleasures  and  ecstasies  of  which  we  can  form  any  con- 
ception (being  limited  by  what  we  can  see  and  under- 
stand here)  have  their  roots  in  corruption,  but  soar 
high  as  the  highest  human  nature  can  allow  :  we  may 
understand  how  out  of  the  basest  desires  may  spring 
the  highest  spiritual  gifts :  and  since  of  all  sources  of 


The  Christenmgf  of  a  Convert,  119 

human  happiness  love  is  the  first,  the  most  copious, 
the  most  satisfying,  it  is  therefore  the  counterpart  of 
the  supreme  joys,  whatever  they  may  be,  of  Heaven. 
In  which  case,  my  lover  wiU  come  back  to  me.  There, 
at  least,  will  be  no  talk  of  rank  and  birth  and  barriers 
of  love.  For  I  was  his  first  :  I  was  his  first :  before 
the  Other  came  across  the  seas. 

By  this  time,  there  was  no  doubt  possible.  He 
came  every  evening,  sometimes  in  the  morning :  he 
gazed  in  my  face  with  such  love  as  one  could  hardly 
believe.  What  was  it  that  he  saw  in  my  face?  In- 
deed, I  know  not  why  a  man  should  be  so  overcome 
by  a  woman's  face.  I  knew  very  well  by  this  time 
that  he  was  of  high  rank :  I  understood  what  he 
meant  when  once  he  spoke  of  the  story  about  Lord 
Burleigh  and  the  village  maid,  saying  that  he  was 
wrong  to  take  her  to  his  great  castle,  but  should  have 
left  her  in  her  native  village  or  placed  her  somewhere 
in  a  cottage  surrounded  by  flowers  and  orchards 
where  she  would  be  happy  in  her  own  way,  and  where 
he  could  find  rest  from  the  cares  of  rank  and  station. 
And  to  this  story  he  often  returned.  As  for  things 
that  have  been  suspected,  no  one,  I  am  sure,  who 
reads  this  history  will  continue  to  believe  them.  Never 
— never — never  could  this  noble  soul  stoop  to  any- 
thing disgraceful.  How  could  I  respect  him  other- 
wise? How  could  I,  otherwise,  think  him  worthy  the 
love  and  respect  which  still  I  bear  towards  him  ? 

It  was  at  this  time,  and  in  consequence  of  his  desire, 
that  I  was  baptized  and  received  into  the  Church  of 
England. 


i2d  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

It  was  a  desire  very  greatly  at  his  heart.  He  urged 
the  cause  of  the  Church  with  singular  spirit  and  full 
conviction.  It  was  the  ancient  Church  of  Christ 
purged  from  corruption  :  it  taught  nothing  but  what 
the  Bible  sanctions  and  commands :  it  has  its  organ- 
ised authority,  as  the  early  Church  had,  with  bishops, 
and  priests,  and  deacons  :  the  ancient  sacraments  :  the 
ancient  forms  of  prayer.  He  showed  me  that  the 
Church  was  the  mother  of  a  great  number  of  divines, 
scholars,  and  philosophers.  Further,  that  my  own 
poor  sect  was  founded  by  simple  men  who  were  gov- 
erned by  the  letter — and  that  an  uncertain  letter,  be- 
cause they  knew  not  the  ancient  languages. 

"  One  thing  only,"  he  said  to  my  cousin,  "  is  lacking 
in  this  sweet  girl — she  is  still  a  schismatic." 

"  I  think  that  she  will  never  return  to  the  Society 
again." 

"  Yet  she  is  not  baptized.  Nancy,  the  Church  waits 
thee — she  waits  with  open  arms." 

Fn  a  word,  I  repaired  to  the  rector  of  St.  James's, 
Piccadilly,  and  laid  my  case  before  him.  This  excel- 
lent man  was  so  good  as  so  devote  some  time  to  my 
instruction  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Church,  showing 
me  at  the  same  time  how  they  rest  upon  the  solid 
Rock  of  the  Word. 

When  I  fully  understood  the  meaning  of  the  things 
which  are  prohibited  by  the  Society  of  Friends — as 
the  efficacy  of  the  sacraments :  the  baptism  of  in- 
fants :  the  kneeling  posture  :  the  chanting  and  singing  : 
the  litanies  and  forms  of  prayer  :  the  declaration  of 
absolution :    and    so   forth — when   I   had   learned    the 


The  Christening  of  a  Convert.  121 

Catechism  and  read  the  Articles  (which  my  tutor 
kindly  allowed  me  to  accept  unquestioned),  I  was 
baptized. 

The  ceremony  took  place  after  the  Second  Lesson 
of  Evening  Prayer.  My  cousin  appeared  as  my  god- 
mother, to  present  me  at  the  font :  very  few  people 
were  present :  Sir  George  stood  retired  under  the 
gallery,  where  he  could  see,  but  was  not  observed. 

Thus,  consenting  at  first  to  receive  instruction  out 
of  a  desire  to  please  my  lover,  I  found  myself  a 
daughter — I  hope  a  true  and  loyal  daughter — to  a 
Church  which  numbers  in  its  illustrious  company  of 
children  an  infinite  number  of  scholars  and  divines  : 
poets  and  philosophers  :  statesmen  and  soldiers :  mar- 
tyrs and  confessors. 

When  the  awful  service  was  over  and  my  vows  were 
pronounced,  my  soul  was  filled  with  solemn  thoughts. 
I  felt  myself  regenerate,  in  a  sense  which  would  never 
be  admitted  by  my  brother :  I  was  lifted  out  of  a 
barn,  so  to  speak,  into  a  palace  :  out  of  a  fold  sur- 
rounded by  wolves  into  meadows  safely  guarded. 

At  the  doors  of  the  church,  after  the  baptism,  Sir 
George  met  us. 

"  We  are  now,"  he  whispered,  "  of  the  same  faith 
and  of  the  same  mind.  What  I  believe,  you  believe: 
what  I  think,  you  think.  I  am  now  completely  happy." 
Not  one  word  of  love  had  yet  been  pronounced.  Yet 
I,  like  him,  was  now  completely  happy. 

This  day  is  one  of  those  which  mark  the  course  of 
the  journey.  It  can  never  be  forgotten.  My  heart  is 
full  when  I  think  of]  it.     For  the  first  time  in  my  life, 


122  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

I  understood  what  it  was  to  be  a  member  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  :  not  one  of  a  little  flock  apart,  torn  by 
fears  and  saddened  by  doubts,  but  one  of  the  whole 
great  company  of  human  creatures  for  whom  our 
Lord  came  to  earth  :  He  loved  that  whole  great  com- 
pany :  not  one  or  two  among  them.  And  now  those 
evil  shadows  fled  from  my  soul :  these  demons  of  ter- 
ror and  doubt  left  me  for  good.  I  have  no  fear  now. 
I  am  one  of  that  great  Company.  My  lover  led  me 
into  it.  I  owe  to  him,  in  a  sense,  even  my  certainty 
of  Redemption. 

Two  days  later,  in  the  same  church,  I  was  confirmed 
by  the  Lord  Bishop  of  London,  alone.  It  was  at  the 
special  request  of  my  lover  that  this  learned  prelate 
consented  to  receive  me.  "A  gentlewoman  of  great 
piety  and  many  virtues,"  the  Bishop  was  told.  No 
one  was  present  except  my  cousin  and  the  verger. 
The  doors  were  shut,  and  I  received,  in  a  kind  of  soli- 
tude, the  blessing  and  a  brief  exhortation  of  the 
Bishop.  The  solitude,  had  I  understood  it,  should 
have  foreshadowed  the  solitude  of  my  after  life,  with 
the  blessing  to  console  and  comfort  the  lonely  woman. 

On  the  following  Sunday  I  completed  my  entrance 
into  the  Church  of  England  by  communion  at  the 
Sacred  Table. 


CHAPTER  DC. 

King's  Favourites. 

I  SUPPOSE  it  was  natural  that  we  should  feel  some 
curiosity  as  to  the  family  to  which  our  friends  be- 
longed. They  had  a  mother  living :  she  was  of  Ger- 
man birth  ;  they  spoke  as  if  she  lived  in  London,  and 
with  her  sons  ;  their  father  was  dead.  Sir  George  had 
a  country  house  at  Kew  ;  Edward  had  a  younger  son's 
portion  ;  there  was  a  grandfather  of  whom  both  spoke 
with  a  reverence  not  usual,  I  believe,  in  young  men ; 
in  fact  we  knew,  as  we  thought,  everything  about 
them,  except  the  extent  and  the  position  of  their 
estates  and  the  history  of  their  family.  "  Everybody," 
said  my  cousin,  "  knows  about  the  Storeys.  There  is 
always  a  Storey  of  good  repute  on  'Change.  In  City 
names  I  am  learned,  and  can  tell  you  of  any  one, 
whether  he  belongs  to  a  good  City  family  or  not.  But 
of  these  people  of  rank  I  know  nothing."  Therefore 
we  were  in  ignorance  as  to  the  history  and  position  of 
the  Le  Bretons. 

And  yet — it  was  truly  wonderful — everybody  about 
us  knew  perfectly  well  the  history,  the  position,  and 
everything  concerning  that  family  and  the  two  young 
men  who  belonged  to  it.  Thus,  Captain  Sellinger 
knew  :  Corporal  Bates  knew  :  the  Doctor  knew :  Rob- 


124  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

ert  Storey  knew :  what  is  still  more  wonderful,  no  one 
told  us  who  they  were  :  everybody,  on  the  other  hand, 
supposed  that  we  knew. 

As  for  the  Doctor,  his  behaviour  surprised  me  ex- 
tremely, because  I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  un- 
derstand what  he  meant.  I  think  I  have  already 
mentioned  him.  He  was  the  old  man  whose  means  of 
living  were  not  apparent.  He  occupied  the  front 
room  on  the  ground  floor.  He  called  himself  Myn- 
sterchamber,  which,  as  we  now  know,  was  an  assumed 
name.  We  called  him  Doctor,  I  know  not  why,  for 
he  did  not  practise.  For  the  most  part  he  seemed  to 
be  sitting  like  a  spider  with  his  door  ajar,  watching 
the  people  pass  in  and  out.  He  had  many  visitors  of 
his  own :  some  of  them  he  let  out  privately  by  the 
garden  door,  which  opened  upon  the  Park.  When- 
ever my  cousin  and  I  went  out  or  returned,  he  would 
throw  open  the  door  and  stand  there,  a  long,  lean 
figure  with  a  hatchet  face,  a  cunning  foxy  face  all 
wrinkles,  with  a  pair  of  keen  bright  eyes.  Then  he 
would  laugh  gently  and  rub  his  hands  while  he  passed 
some  extravagant  compliment.  I  expected  these  com- 
pliments: they  amused  me:  one  knew  how  foolish  they 
were  :  yet  they  amused  me.  It  was,  "  Miss  Nancy  will 
kill  all  the  swains  this  morning":  or  "Miss  Nancy, 
I  protest,  hath  called  up  all  her  angelic  soul  into  her 
eyes."  And  so  on.  Why,  we  might  defend  a  com- 
pliment as  a  homage  to  virtue:  it  cannot  harm  a 
woman  to  be  reminded  that  an  angelic  soul  is  much  to 
be  desired:  she  may  then  be  induced  to  raise  her  own 
imperfect  soul.     Cold  would  be  the  world  :  it  would  be 


King's  Favourites.  125 

a  world  after  the  fashion  of  our  Society  :  in  which  the 
exact  truth,  and  nothing  more,  was  told.  In  that  kind 
of  world  the  Doctor  would  have  saluted  me  some 
morning  with,  "  Miss  Nancy,  I  vow,  doth  express  in 
her  sour  and  peevish  countenance  the  whole  of  her 
detestable  temper."  That,  I  am  quite  sure,  would 
have  made  me  very  angry. 

One  morning  he  not  only  threw  the  door  wide  open 
and  passed  the  usual  compliment,  but  he  invited  us  to 
enter  his  room.  Out  of  curiosity  to  see  the  lodging 
of  this  mysterious  person,  my  cousin  accepted  and  we 
went  in.  The  room  was  furnished  most  meagrely. 
There  was  a  low  and  narrow  wooden  bed  covered  with 
a  blanket :  there  was  a  table  littered  with  papers :  two 
or  three  common  chairs :  and  a  cupboard  with  shelves 
containing  his  wardrobe.  There  was  also  a  large 
wooden  box  strengthened  with  iron.  His  hat,  sword, 
and  coat  hung  from  the  wall :  his  wig  hung  from  an- 
other nail :  he  wore  a  white  cotton  nightcap  tied  round 
his  head  like  a  turban,  and  a  long,  ragged  nightgown 
of  faded  silk. 

"  The  place,"  he  said,  "  is  simple,  as  you  see  ;  yet  it 
does  very  well  for  an  old  soldier." 

He  handed  us  to  chairs.  "  I  believe,"  he  said,  ''that 
this  is  the  first  time  during  my  residence  here,  of  ten 
years,  that  I  have  been  visited  by  a  lady.  What  can  I 
offer?"  He  went  to  his  cupboard  and  brought  out  a 
bottle  of  curious  shape  and  two  little  wine-glasses,  into 
which  he  poured  some  liquid.  "This,"  he  said,  "  is  a 
cordial  made  by  certain  monks  in  a  place  called  the 
Grande  Chartreuse.     Taste  it,  ladies.     Be  not  afraid  : 


126  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

it  is  strong,  but  I  have  given  you  only  a  few  drops." 
It  was,  indeed,  the  most  delicious  nectar  that  I  had 
ever  tasted,  but  too  strong  for  a  woman's  drink. 
While  we  tasted  this  cordial  he  went  on  talking. 
"This  is  my  humble  lodging:  hither  come  a  few  old 
friends  from  time  to  time  to  visit  me :  we  exchange 
recollections  and  experiences  :  like  all  old  men,  we 
praise  the  days  that  are  past.  Alas  !  They  come  no 
more.  Age  has  few  pleasures  except  wine  and  recol- 
lections and  the  snuff-box."  He  produced  his  own 
and  illustrated  the  remark. 

He  spoke  with  something  of  a  foreign  accent. 

"You  have  travelled  abroad.  Sir?"  my  cousin 
asked. 

"  I  have  travelled  over  most  of  Europe.  I  have 
seen  the  Courts  of  Kings  and  the  cottages  of  the  peo- 
ple. I  speak  most  of  the  European  languages.  That 
man  cannot  be  said  to  travel  who  cannot  speak  the 
language  of  the  country." 

"  You  must  have  observed  many  interesting 
things?" 

"  The  differences  between  peoples  appear  interest- 
ing at  first.  When  one  grows  old,  they  become  insig- 
nificant. All  men  and  women  in  every  country  are 
the  same.  And  their  highest  virtues  are  simply  those 
which  we  teach  to  children." 

"  What  teaching  do  you  mean.  Sir?" 

"  I  mean.  Madam,  the  elementary  virtues  which  are, 
I  believe,  taught  in  your  Church  Catechism  :  Honesty, 
obedience,  chastity,  industry,  loyalty — nothing  more 
is  wanted.     Were  these  virtues  actually  practised  in 


King^s  Favourites.  127 

the  world,  there  would  be  no  poverty,  no  discontent, 
no  lawyers,  no  prisons,  no  gibbets,  no  sermons.  Noth- 
ing is  wanted  in  spite  of  your  Thirty-nine  Articles 
and  your  libraries  of  theology  but  the  simple  virtues. 
Honesty  to  beget  confidence  and  trust  :  obedience  to 
preserve  order  and  authority  :  chastity  to  preserve  the 
dignity  of  women :  industry  to  supply  the  world  : 
and,  above  all,  and  before  all,  loyalty  to  keep  the 
social  machine  from  falling  to  pieces." 

"  Is  loyalty  to  be  put  first.  Doctor?  To  be  sure,  in 
this  favoured  land,  we  are  all  loyal." 

He  made  a  wry  face.  "All  loyal.  Madam?"  he 
repeated.  "  All  loyal?  I  would  to  Heaven  we  were! 
Loyalty,  Madam,  to  the  lawful  sovereign — not  to  any 
usurper — is  the  first  of  all  duties.  He  who  is  loyal  is 
everything :  he  is  ready  at  all  times  to  spend  and  be 
spent  in  the  service  of  his  King.  There  may  be  a  bad 
King,  yet  some  time  or  other  he  dies :  whatever  may 
be  said  of  him  he  fulfils — he  cannot  choose  but  fulfil 
— the  function  of  a  King.  When  he  dies  there  comes 
a  better.  The  King  is  the  keystone  to  the  arch  :  the 
only  stone  that  belongs  to  that  place.  If  all  the  world 
were  loyal  there  would  be  no  rebellions,  no  heresies, 
no  false  prophets,  no  mischievous  liberties  :  we  should 
all  think  alike,  hold  the  same  faith,  and,  if  need  be, 
should  die  alike." 

He  spoke  earnestly,  and  his  face  lost  for  a  moment 
its  habitual  look  of  cunning. 

"When  a  man  is  loyal,"  he  went  on,  "  he  will  do 
cheerfully  whatever  he  is  bidden  to  do  by  his  supe- 
riors, even  if  it  cost  him  his  fortune  and  estate  :  even 


128  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

if  it  ruins  his  children  :  yea,  even  if  it  orders  him  to 
carry  out  the  basest  of  tasks ;  even  if  his  loyalty  cover 
him  with  infamy,  he  will  dare  it  cheerfully.  A  man 
who  is  loyal  will  place  more  than  his  life — he  will 
place  his  honour — at  the  disposal  of  his  King." 

"  Could  a  King  take  a  man's  honour  from  him  ?  " 

"  In  politics  and  statecraft.  Miss  Nancy,  everything 
may  be  possible — even  necessary." 

"  Of  course,"  said  my  cousin,  "  everybody  must  be 
loyal." 

"  Madam,  believe  me  :  it  is  the  superlatively  good 
thing.  Remember  all  the  miseries— the  civil  wars — 
brought  upon  this  country  by  disloyalty.  Henry  the 
Fourth  takes  his  cousin's  place.  Presently  the  coun- 
try is  red  with  rivers  of  blood.  Charles  the  First  is 
murdered,  with  more  rivers  of  blood.  James  the 
Second  is  deposed,  and  what  end  do  we  see  to  the 
troubles  that  followed  that  act  of  wickedness  ?  " 

"Nay,  Sir!"  My  cousin  opened  her  eyes.  This 
was  a  strange  theory  to  hear  in  the  reign  of  George  II. 

"Loyalty  remains  in  the  country  still.  There  are 
the  martyrs  of  171 5  and  those  of  1745.  Derwentwa- 
ter's  spirit  yet  survives " 

My  cousin  jumped  up. 

"Nancy!"  she  cried.  "This  gentleman  is  a  Jaco- 
bite." 

"  Nay,  nay."  He  spoke  as  one  who  coaxes. 
"  What  matter  the  opinions  of  an  old  man  who  can  no 
longer  fight  and  is  not  a  pamphleteer?  You  shall 
have  your  own  way  and  be  as  loyal  as  you  like.  Sit 
4own.  a^ain,  and  I  will  show  you  sQipething."     We 


King's  Favourites.  129 

sat  down,  and  he  opened  his  box.  "  You  must  know, 
ladies,  that  I  have  a  poor  house — in  the  country — a 
country  house.  Here  I  have  certain  collections — an 
old  man  likes  to  collect  things.  I  have  some  paint- 
ings :  some  china  ;  some  curiosities  of  all  kinds.  Since 
I  have  been  in  London  I  have  made  a  little  collection 
of  miniatures  which  will  interest  you,  I  am  sure. 
They  are  portraits — real  or  imaginary — of  lovely  and 
celebrated  ladies — not  one  so  lovely  as  Miss  Nancy, 
who  will,  I  am  sure,  be  the  most  celebrated  of  them 
all."  He  took  out  a  box  about  a  foot  long  and  placed 
it  on  the  table.  It  contained  a  large  number  of  minia- 
tures set  in  gold  frames.  I  took  them  up  one  after 
the  other.  They  were,  as  he  said,  portraits  of  really 
beautiful  women. 

"That  portrait,"  he  said — I  was  looking  at  one 
representing  a  girl  wearing  a  Scotch  plaid  over  her 
shoulder — "will  never  be  given  you.  Miss  Nancy,  by 
the  gentleman  who  visits  you  every  day." 

"  Why  not,  Sir  ?  " 

"Truly,  I  cannot  say.  If  you  do  not  know,  I  do 
not.  It  is  the  portrait  of  Flora  Macdonald,  a  very  dis- 
tinguished loyalist,  who  saved  the  life  of  Prince 
Charles  Edward." 

"The  Young  Pretender,"  my  cousin  corrected  him. 

"  If  you  please — Prince  or  Pretender — she  saved 
his  life.  The  Prince  has  been — though  there  is  still 
time  for  fortune  to  change — singularly  unfortunate 
hitherto  :  misfortune  dogs  his  steps  :  he  is  continually 
pursued  by  misfortune  :  yet  he  has  had  his  consola- 
tion in  the  women  whose    portraits  are  in  this  box. 


130  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Clementina  Walkinshaw  :  Jenny  Cameron  :  Lady  Mac 
kintosh :  and  not  the  least  the  subject  of  this  piece, 
Flora  Macdonald.  Now  Miss  Nancy,  I  repeat,  would 
your  friends  give  you  this  picture?  " 

"Why  should  they  not,  Sir?" 

"  Indeed,  I  repeat,  I  cannot  say.  If  you  do  not 
know  I  do  not.  Will  you  choose  to  look  at  the  rest  ? 
They  are  all  the  favourites  of  Kings  and  Princes.  See 
— here  is  Agnes  Sorel,  beloved  of  Charles  the  Seventh 
of  France:  here  La  Belle  Gabrielle,  mistress  of  Henry 
the  Fourth  of  France :  here  is  La  Valliere  :  here 
Madame  de  Montespan :  all  French  ladies.  Here, 
again,  are  some  English  portraits.  Fair  Rosamond — 
but  I  doubt  the  genuineness  of  this  portrait :  Alice 
Ferrars:  Jane  Shore: — they  are  all  sad  in  the  eyes. 
I  know  not  why,  but  the  King's  sweetheart  is  never 
happy  for  long.     Here  is  Nell  Gwynne " 

*'  Put  them  up— put  them  up.  Doctor  Mynster- 
chamber.  Are  these  things  to  be  shown  to  a  young 
lady  ?  "  My  cousin  was  greatly  moved.  The  Doctor 
grinned,  with  such  a  meaning  look  that  though  I 
knew  not  what  it  meant  I  shivered  and  shook  as  in 
the  presence  of  some  evil  thing. 

"Come,  Nancy,  come,"  she  caught  me  by  the  hand. 
"This  is  the  last  time.  Doctor  Mynsterchamber,  that  I 
shall  enter  your  lodging.  Do  not  dare,  Sir,  so  much 
as  to  speak  to  us  !  Rosamond  and  Nell  Gwynne,  in- 
deed !  " 

She  pushed  me  out,  very  indignant.  "  What  does 
the  old  villain  mean?"  she  asked.  "As  for  the 
French  pictures  I  know  nothing   about  the  persons, 


King^s  Favourites.  131 

and,  I  am  sure,  I  do  not  desire  to  know  anything  :  but 
the  English  creatures  one  has  heard  about  in  history. 
What  does  he  mean  by  the  loyalty  of  Derwentwater  ? 
My  dear,  the  creature  is  a  Jacobite.  That  is  certain. 
And  what  does  he  mean  by  saying  that  our  friends 
would  not  give  us  the  portrait  o(  the  Scotch  wo- 
man?" 


CHAPTER  X. 
Robert  Storey. 

It  was  somewhere  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Robert 
Storey  paid  me  a  remarkable  visit.  He  came  in  the 
morning,  when  (I  suppose)  he  knew  that  Isabel  would 
probably  be  out  with  Molly  and  a  basket,  somewhere 
about  Shepherd's  Market.  I  was,  in  fact,  alone,  for 
that  reason.  Since  the  evening  when  he  fairly  ran 
away,  frightened  by  the  mere  aspect  of  our  visitors,  he 
had  not  once  called  upon  us.  For  my  own  part,  as  I 
did  not  think  of  him,  or  miss  him,  I  asked  not  why 
he  came  no  longer,  who  had  before  that  event  come 
so  often. 

This  morning  he  was  dressed  in  the  plain  brown 
cloth  in  which  he  served  his  customers  and  showed  his 
books.  One  expected  the  studied  respect  of  the  coun- 
ter: the  self-satisfaction  with  which  he  stood  before 
me  was  out  of  place  in  the  workaday  dress.  A  cer- 
tain anxiety,  however,  was  in  his  eyes  and  his  saluta- 
tion showed  some  doubt  or  difificulty  in  his  mind  by 
the  omission  of  some  of  his  ceremonies. 

Yet  he  remembered,  on  sitting  down,  to  thrust  his 
right  hand  under  his  waistcoat,  which  is  an  attitude 
denoting  authority.  A  suppliant,  if  you  think  of  it, 
doth  never  sit  upright,  with  his  hand  in  his  waistcoat 
over  his  heart. 


Robert  Storey*  133 

"  This  is  unexpected,  Mr.  Robert,"  t  said.  "  The 
cares  of  business,  I  believe,  generally  occupy  your 
mornings." 

"  I  have  left  a  shopful  of  poets  and  authors  solicit- 
ing, as  usual,  my  patronage.  They  must  wait.  I 
come  at  the  call  of  duty.  Consider  me,  Miss  Nancy, 
as  a  man  who  never  flinches  at  the  call  of  duty." 

"  Indeed,  Sir  !     I  am  honoured,  whatever  the  cause." 

"  Where  ruin  threatens  one  in  whom  a  man  takes  a 
friendly  interest,  or  even  a  warmer  interest,  he  would 
be  below  a  man  were  he  not  to  obey  the  voice  of  duty. 
In  such  a  case  to  flinch  would  be  degrading.  Vanish, 
safety!  Welcome,  danger! — ^so  that  duty  points  the 
way." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Robert !  You  are  doubtless  right. 
But — does  the  occasion  justify  these  noble  senti- 
ments ?  " 

"  In  some  cases,"  he  went  on,  "  as  in  old  friendship, 
or  in  blood  relationship,  a  man  has  a  right  to  intervene : 
in  other  cases,  the  right  has  been  conferred  upon  him 
by  circumstances  :  as  when  two  persons  have  been 
lovers.  The  recollection  of  the  past  preserves  a  ten- 
der interest,  and  confers  that  right.  He  who  hath 
once  loved,  always  loves.  He  who  hath  once  loved 
retains  the  right  of  intervention.  So  sacred,  Miss 
Nancy,  is  the  passion  of  love." 

He  must  have  got  this  exordium  off  by  heart  :  with 
so  much  dignity  and  roundness  of  phrase  was  it  ad- 
vanced :  indeed,  in  what  followed  as  well,  he  seemed 
like  one  who  is  saying  a  lesson  ;  or  like  a  schoolboy 
reciting,  with  studied  gestures,  the  words  of  another. 


134  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

As  for  me,  I  understood  not  one  word.  What  had 
Robert  Storey  to  do  with  love?  Why  should  he 
speak  to  me  about  the  sacred  passion  of  love?  Never 
had  I  suspected,  never  did  my  cousin  suspect,  that 
the  man  entertained  towards  me  any  sentiment  of  the 
kind.  As  for  myself,  as  you  know  very  well,  I  had 
no  thought  of  love  from  any  quarter  until  a  certain 
person  began  to  occupy  my  heart. 

"  Love,"  he  went  on,  grandly,  "  even  when  rejected 
and  scorned,  confers  rights.  To  love  a  worthy  woman 
— that  is,  a  woman  worthy  the  affection  of  a  mer- 
chant— not  only  raises  the  woman  but  also  the  man, 
in  whom  love  confirms  and  strengthens  his  former  con- 
spicuous virtues.  It  is  a  patent  of  nobility.  Venus 
borrows  the  sword  of  Mars  and  lays  it  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  lover."  He  repeated  the  last  clause, 
being  carried  away  by  admiration  of  it. 

I  know  not  how  long  he  might  have  gone  on  with 
these  extravagances,  had  I  not  stopped  him,  being  out 
of  patience. 

"Pray,  Sir,  for  Heaven's  sake  cease  talking  language 
fit  for  one  of  your  starving  authors  and  come  to  the 
point.  What  do  you  mean,  once  for  all,  by  your 
rights  and  your  duty  and  your  sacred  passion  of 
love  ?" 

He  turned  very  red,  took  his  hand  out  of  his  bosom, 
and  leaning  both  hands  on  his  knees,  he  bent  down 
and  whispered  hoarsely,  though  there  was  nobody  else 
in  the  room,  "  Miss  Nancy,  I  can  never  forget  that  I 
was  first  in  the  field." 

"What  do  mean,  Sir?" 


Robert  Storey.  135 

"  First  in  the  field.     That  you  cannot  deny." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  deny  anything  that  is  true.  But, 
if  you  please,  what  field  ?  " 

"  First  in  the  field,  I  say  :  you  know  very  well  what 
I  mean.  For  two  months  my  attentions — those  of  a 
plain  substantial  merchant — a  sober,  godly  citizen — 
pleased — until  the  Other  came." 

''Attentions!  To  me,  Mr.  Robert?"  This  did 
astonish  me,  because,  I  repeat,  I  had  no  kind  of  suspi- 
cion at  all  that  he  had  ever  paid  me  attentions 
Speeches  of  a  highly  moral  character  he  had  made, 
often  :  but  these  I  could  not  take  for  attentions. 

"  Understand  me,  if  you  please,  Sir.  I  have  never 
received  any  attentions  from  you,  to  my  knowledge. 
You  have  behaved  to  me  in  no  way  differently  than  to 
my  cousin.  I  am  certain  that  Isabel  has  never 
suspected  such  a  thing.  Put  it  out  of  your  thoughts, 
therefore,  instantly  and  for  ever.  I  cannot  admit  that 
you  have  any  rights,  or  that  I  have  ever  heard  you 
speak  to  me  except  as  Isabel's  cousin  should  be  al- 
lowed to  speak." 

Perhaps  I  spoke  more  strongly  than  was  necessary  : 
but  I  confess  that  the  claim  made  me  angry.  Rob- 
ert Storey  ever  my  lover !  This  smug,  self-satisfied 
man  of  second-hand  maxims  and  third-rate  phrases  ! 
Robert  Storey  ever  to  occupy  the  heart  afterwards 
filled  with oh  ! 

In  reply  he  sighed  heavily,  joined  his  hands,  and  sat 
back  in  his  chair  with  his  eyes  raised  as  if  appealing  to 
Heaven.  "  So  quickly  may  the  world  corrupt !  So 
quickly  may   the  most  transparent  soul  be  clouded  ! 


136  A  Fountain  Sealeci. 

So  quickly  may  coquetry — heartless  coquetry — grow 
up  even  in  the  Quaker  heart !  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Robert  Storey,  you  become  rude.  I 
assure  you,  once  more,  that  I  was  quite  unconscious 
of  any  attentions  on  your  part." 

"Alas  !  "  he  replied,  "  That  Miss  Nancy  should  so 
stoop  !  How  can  I  believe  such  a  thing  ?  Did  I  not 
lend  books?  Did  I  not  come  here  instead  of  going  to 
my  club  where  I  am  an  honoured  member?  " 

"  I  am  sorry.  Sir.  I  was  brought  up  in  such  seclusion 
that  I  understood  not  what  these  attentions  might 
mean." 

"Nay — think — you  allowed  me  to  believe:  you  suf- 
fered me  to  flatter  myself :  that  I  was  not  displeasing 
to  you." 

"Displeasing?  Why  should  you  be  displeasing? 
Besides,  if  you  were  I  could  not  tell  you  so  in  my 
cousin's  house." 

"  Then,  suddenly,  there  appeared  upon  the  scene — 
Another — one  who  dazzled — and  I  am  forgotten  and 
cast  aside.     This  gives  me,  I  say,  the  right  to  warn." 

I  was  silent  because  what  he  said  was  quite  true.  I 
had  forgotten  him.  Persons  for  whom  w^e  do  not 
greatly  care,  pass  out  of  our  minds  very  easily.  I  had 
forgotten  him.  Yet  as  to  these  intentions,  indeed  I 
did  not  even  suspect  them. 

"  These  young — gentlemen — are  admitted  every 
night  :  the  honest  merchant  is  turned  out  of  doors." 

"  Not  turned  out  of  doors.  Remember,  Mr.  Robert, 
you  ran  away.  We  do  not  keep  you  out  of  doors. 
Come  back  if  you  please." 


Robert  Storey*  M? 

"You  know  that  I  cannot  pretend  to  associate  with 
these  two — persons." 

"You  were  once,  if  I  remember,  convinced  that  they 
were  highwaymen  or  impostors  of  some  kind.  Do  you 
now  own  that  you  were  wrong?" 

"If,"  he  repHed  slowly,  "it  will  help  you  to  return 
to  your  senses,  I  do  own  that  I  was  wrong.  They  are 
young  men,  as  you  know,  of  high  place.  Their  world 
is  not  mine.  I  cannot  presume  to  sit  in  the  same 
room  with  them." 

"  You  also  thought  that  they  are  profligates.  How- 
ever, that  matters  little.  What  is  your  present  griev- 
ance ?  " 

"  They  are  admitted  here  every  evening,  Miss  Nancy. 
Have  you  considered — has  my  cousin  considered — the 
construction  which  the  world  may  put  upon  such  an 
intimacy  ?  " 

"  We  live  so  much  out  of  the  world  that  we  do  not 
hear  what  the  world  says." 

"  No  woman  can  afford  to  disregard  the  character 
which  she  bears  in  the  world.  As  for  me,  my  cousin's 
name  is  also  concerned.  This  adds  to  the  apprehen- 
sions with  which  I  contemplate  the  situation." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Robert,  to  caution  me 
against  the  world.  Meantime,  I  doubt  if  the  most 
censorious  can  find  anything  to  say  against  visits  paid 
openly  to  two  women — one  of  them  a  widow — by  two 
brothers,  who  always  come  together." 

He  rose  :  he  made  as  if  he  would  speak  :  he  checked 
himself :  he  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out : 
he  came  back  and  stood  by  the  table. 


13^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  You  shall  hear  what  is  said.  Only  the  day  before 
yesterday  you  passed  my  shop  in  Pall  Mall,  I  was 
standing  on  the  door  step  conversing  with  a  customer, 
concerning  a  certain  person.  As  you  passed  he  said  to 
me  '  Those  are  the  ladies  whom  he  visits.'  As  he 
spoke  he  turned  away  his  head." 

"  Is  that  all  ?     Why,  it  is  quite  true." 

He  groaned  so  unaffectedly  that  I  did  not  laugh  at 
him  as  I  was  at  first  inclined. 

"The  world  will  always  think  the  worst.  Oh,  Miss 
Nancy  !  you  know  not  the  wickedness  of  the  world." 

"  But — what  have  we  to  do  with  the  wickedness  of 
the  world?  These  gentlemen  come  not  alone,  if  it  is 
a  sin  for  a  man  to  call  alone  upon  two  ladies :  I  do  not 
receive  them  alone,  but  in  the  company  of  my  cousin. 
Believe  me,  Sir,  they  never  transgress — they  could 
not — the  rules  of  good  breeding.  They  are  well-bred 
young  men,  with  whom  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  con- 
verse. I  am  sure  that  they  have  no  place  in  the 
corrupt  society  of  which  you  speak " 

"That  is  as  it  may  be — but  why  do  they  come?  I 
will  tell  you,  then,  in  so  many  words,  why  they 
come." 

He  sat  down  again  and  delivered  himself  of  the 
suspicions  which  filled  his  soul. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  repeated,  "  why  they  come. 
They  are  not  highwaymen  or  adventurers,  or  im- 
postors of  any  kind :  you  pretend  not  to  know  their 
rank:  well,  I  will  not  know  either." 

"  I  wish  to  learn  the  truth  when  it  pleases  my 
friends  to  tell  me.     Besides,  Mr.  Robert,  I  could  hardly 


Robert  Storey.  i39 

believe  you  on  this  subject,  after  your  mistake  as  to 
the  highwaymen.     Go  on,  however." 

"  I  will  begin,  then.  In  this  country  " — Robert 
Storey  always  affected,  as  you  have  perceived,  the 
preacher,  or  lecturer,  or  moral  philosopher.  "  In  this 
country  where  there  exists  a  hierarchy,  which  is  a  word 
derived  from  the  Latin  meaning  a  ladder,  there  are 
levels  in  which  each  of  us  is  born.  To  take  your 
place  on  the  wrong  level  brings  misery  and  repent- 
ance. Those  on  the  higher  levels  must  not  marry 
with  tliose  of  the  lower.  Yet,  sometimes,  to  the  ir- 
reparable injury  of  the  women  concerned,  the  men  of 
the  upper  levels  make  love  to  the  women  of  the 
lower.  They  either  dazzle  the  poor  creatures  with 
their  ribbons  and  their  gold  lace  ;  or  they  make  prom- 
ises which  they  never  mean  to  perform :  or  one  makes 
his  society  so  pleasing  to  a  woman  that — poor  wretch  ! 
— she  cannot  live  without  her  lover,  and  so — and  so — 
the  rest  is  easy." 

"  The  rest,  Mr.  Storey  ?  "  I  sprang  to  my  feet  fired 
with  indignation.  "  What  rest,  pray  ?  What  rest,  I 
say  ?  " 

"  The  rest  ?  It  is  what  happens  whenever  a  woman 
like  yourself  listens  to  a  man  like  either  of  these  two. 
There  can  be  but  one  rest.  Miss  Nancy ;  there  can  be, 
I  say  " — he  rose  quietly,  forgot  his  affectations,  and 
spoke  quite  plainly  straight  to  my  face — "  but  one 
termination  to  such  an  affair  as  that.  If  no  one  else 
will  warn  thee,  I  will.  What?  Can  you  suppose  that 
a  person  of  that  position  can  marry  one  of  the  trading 
class — can  marry  a  Quakeress — one  of  that  despised 


140  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

sect?  A  Quakeress?  If  he  were  to  do  such  a  thin.g 
in  the  heat  and  madness  of  his  passion,  he  would  have 
to  conceal  and  to  deny  the  fact.  How  would  you  en- 
dure the  slights,  the  rudenesses,  the  cruelties,  the  sus- 
picions which  such  a  position  would  bring  upon  you? 
What  friends  would  you  have?  Your  own?  Not  so: 
they  would  not  meet  your  husband.  His  friends? 
They  would  not  meet  you.  The  men  would  not  con- 
cern themselves  about  you  :  the  women  would  hate 
you.  They  would  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  make 
mischief  between  your  husband  and  you.  Nancy, 
you  know  nothing  of  the  fine  ladies  of  London. 
They  come  to  my  shop,  and  I  listen  to  their  talk : 
they  regard  me  not.  I  am  only  a  shopkeeper :  a 
servant.  They  say  what  they  please  before  me  :  what 
do  they  care  about  a  servant's  opinion  about  them  ? 
Their  lovers  call  them  angels,  but  they  are  fallen 
angels.  They  are  as  false  as  Belial :  as  cruel  as  Death  : 
as  vain  as  peacocks:  their  cheeks  are  painted:  their 
hair  once  belonged  to  some  poor,  honest  girl :  beneath 
their  fine  clothes  they  are  made  of  wood  and  of  whale- 
bone :  they  are  selfish,  greedy,  grasping,  insatiable  as 
the  daughters  of  the  horseleech,  and  as  pitiless  as  a 
slave-driver  of  Virginia." 

He  spoke  with  so  much  fervour  that  he  moved  me. 
Yet  what  grounds  were  there  for  his  outbreak?  Noth- 
ing could  be  charged  against  our  friends:  neither  of 
them  had  begun  to  make  love,  although  I  felt  and 
understood  the  truth  very  well.  As  for  the  fine 
ladies,  he  had  probably  received  some  affront  in  their 
behaviour  to  him  which  caused  this  outburst  of  wrath. 
What  could  he  know  about  them?  " 


Robert  Storey.  141 

He  sat  down  and  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. Then  he  composed  himself  once  more, 
ashamed  of  his  heat,  and  represented  the  man  who 
has  delivered  a  message  or  a  prophecy  and  now  smiles 
gently  over  the  recollection  of  an  effective  speech. 

''  Mr.  Storey,"  I  replied,  "  I  think  that  what  you 
have  said  passes  all  bounds;  yet  I  am  willing  to  be- 
lieve that  you  are  in  earnest.  Understand,  however, 
that  there  is  no  ground  for  this  suspicion  at  all — none. 
And  now,  if  you  please,  we  will  end  the  conversation." 

"  One  word  more,  if  you  will  permit.  The  danger 
exists :  of  that  I  am  quite  sure :  my  cousin  Isabel 
ought  to  perceive  it,  and  to  avoid  it — even  by  flight. 
My  passion  has  perhaps  betrayed  me  into  speaking 
with  greater  heat  than  I  had  intended — pray  forgive 
me.  And  now.  Miss  Nancy,  hear  me  quietly  on 
another  subject.  All  these  suspicions  and  whispered 
scandals  can  be  avoided  in  one  simple  way — by  marry- 
ing me." 

He  rose  again,  took  one  step  forward,  held  out  both 
his  arms,  and  threw  his  head  back  in  an  attitude 
which  he  believed  to  be  one  of  admiration  or  passion 
controlled  by  virtue. 

"  By  marrying  me,"  he  repeated.  "  Miss  Nancy,  it 
is  in  your  power  to  make  a  good  man  happy,  not 
a " 

I  stepped  back,  and  took  up  a  position  which  en- 
abled me  to  have  the  table  between  us. 

"  By  marrying  you,  Mr.  Robert  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  only  way.  Then  the  voice  of  the  world, 
which  does  not  concern  itself  about  honourable  wives 


142  A  Fountain  Scaled. 

of  sober  citizens,  will  pour  its  calumny  upon  the  name 
of  some  other  woman.     Marry  me,  Nancy." 

"  It  is  impossible — quite  impossible." 

"  Nancy,  when  I  think  of  that  other  Person  playing 
with  thy  heart  my  own  is  like  to  burst  with  rage.  Be- 
lieve me,  Nancy,  I  love  thee.  Thy  image  is  always 
before  my  eyes,  day  and  night.  Sometimes  I  come  at 
night  and  stand  under  the  window  here — and  think 
with  madness  that  those  two  are  upstairs  with  Isabel 
and  you.     Nancy,  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"Mr.  Robert,"  I  said,  "it  is  impossible.  Say  no 
more.     Leave  me  now." 

"  I  must  say  what  I  came  to  say.  Consider  again  : 
these  friends  of  yours  are  only  playing  with  you. 
For  you,  if  not  for  them,  it  is  playing  with  fire.  For 
myself,  I  have  no  other  desire  than  to  make  you  my 
partner  for  life.  You  know  me — I  am  personable :  I 
have  good  manners  :  I  come  of  a  good  family.  In 
the  trade  I  hold  a  good  position.  I  have  money 
saved  and  a  reasonable  income.  I  possess  shares  in 
many  important  books.  As  for  reading,  few  have  read 
more  books.  For  religion,  I  am  a  sidesman  of  St. 
James's " 

"  It  is  no  use — oh  !  no  use  at  all.  Please  go  away 
and  leave  me." 

"  I  shall  prove  a  fond  and  loving  husband." 

"  Mr.  Robert,  I  could  not  marry  you,  even  if  these 
gentlemen  had  never  come  here." 

He  looked  at  me  fixedly  for  some  moments.  Then 
he  picked  up  his  hat,  which  had  fallen  on  the  ground. 

"  Your  eyes  are  hard,  Nancy.     I   perceive   plainly 


RoBert  Storey.  i43 

that  another  presence,  not  mine,  is  wanted  to  make 
them  soft.  I  say  no  more  for  this  time.  Only, 
Nancy,  when  trouble  comes,  remember  that  there  was 
a  man  in  your  own  rank  who  once  loved  thee,  but  was 
driven  away.  When  trouble  comes — it  must^  come — 
there  is  no  help  for  it — it  must  come  :  remember  that 
it  would  not  have  come  had  you  taken  that  good  man, 
that  religious  and  respectable  man,  and  embarked 
your  money  in  his  business." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Robert."  I  offered  him  my 
hand,  but  he  would  not  take  it.  "If  trouble  comes,  I 
will  remember  that  the  same  kind  of  trouble  would 
not  have  come  with  you.  Believe  me.  Sir,  I  would 
rather  have  that  sort  of  trouble  without  you,  than  any 
other  kind  with  you." 

So  he  went  away,  without  any  attitudes,  quite 
naturally,  and  with  his  face  full  of  rage.  He  loved 
me,  in  his  fashion,  I  dare  say,  but  how  could  I  endure 
him  after  that  Other  ? 

This  conversation  for  a  time  disquieted  me.  Not 
all  of  it.  I  cared  nothing  about  the  difference  of 
station :  if  two  people  love  each  other  heartily  what 
matters  difference  of  station  ?  Nor  did  I  care  what 
he  said  about  the  women  of  fashion,  except  for  the 
curiosity  of  it,  and  to  think  of  the  smiling,  bowing 
shopkeeper  all  the  time  listening  with  both  ears  to 
the  talk  of  these  persons !  No  :  the  part  which  con- 
cerned me  most  was  the  statement  that  the  time  may 
come  to  every  woman  so  courted  when  she  can  no 
longer  live  happily  except  in  the  society  of  the  man 
who  courts  her. 


144  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Was  that  time  already  come  to  me? 
With  flushed  cheek  and  beating   heart  I   put   the 
question  by. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Masquerade. 

Thus  slipped  away  the  months  of  August  and  Sep- 
tember. Oh!  the  happy  time  !  The  sweet  and  happy 
time  !  In  the  evening  we  sang  or  played  cards  :  some- 
times we  danced  :  sometimes  we  read  :  continually  we 
talked  and  laughed  :  continually  I  saw  in  the  eyes  of 
one  that  look  which  no  woman,  not  even  the  most 
innocent,  can  misunderstand  ;  and  in  the  eyes  of  the 
other  a  look  of  interest — I  will  call  it  brotherly  in- 
terest— with  something  of  anxiety,  which  now  I  un- 
derstand. Always  we  laughed  and  were  happy.  Kind 
Heaven  gives  to  youth  that  power  of  happiness  ;  but 
only  for  a  short  time,  lest  men  and  women  should 
cease  to  bethink  them  of  the  world  to  come.  Should 
not  that  glad  time  of  spring  warn  us  that  there  are 
joys  of  which  we  know  not,  even  sweeter  than  the  joys 
of  love  and  youth  ? 

Sometimes,  but  not  often,  we  walked  together  in 
the  morning.  Then,  as  I  have  said  before,  people 
sometimes  stared  at  us  :  hats  were  doffed — it  becomes 
more  and  more  wonderful,  the  more  I  think  of  it,  that 
we  did  not  discover  the  names  and  the  rank  of  our 
friends. 

London    is    full   of    places  where   the   men  amusQ 


h6  a  Fountain  Sealed. 

themselves.  There  are  theatres,  masquerades,  danc- 
ing places,  gardens  such  as  those  at  Bagnigge,  Vaux- 
hall,  Marylebone,  Sadler's  Wells,  St.  George's  Fields, 
and  others :  there  are  races,  fairs,  taverns,  clubs,  coffee- 
houses, cock-fighting,  boxing,  bull-baiting,  quarterstaff, 
wrestling,  and  other  things.  Some  of  these  amuse- 
ments— not  many — ^are  open  to  gentlewomen.  The 
rest  we  gladly  leave  to  men,  with  the  drinking,  riot- 
ing>  fighting,  and  robbing  that  go  on  afterwards.  We 
talked  of  these  amusements,  none  of  which  had  either 
of  us  seen.  They  proposed  to  show  us  some  of  them. 
What  would  we  choose  ? 

"  Madam,"  said  Sir  George,  "  it  has  been  our  happy 
fortune,  so  far,  to  accept  your  favours.  Suffer  us  to 
become  still  more  indebted  to  you  by  accepting  from 
us  in  your  turn  some  amusement,  however  trifling." 

"What  say  you,  Nancy?  Sir  George  is  very  kind. 
What  would  you  like?" 

"  Should  we  walk  in  St.  Paul's,  or  go  to  see  the 
Royal  Exchange?"  I  asked,  not  knowing  what  else 
to  say. 

The  brothers  looked  at  each  other  doubtfully.  Sir 
George  replied,  with  a  little  hesitation,  that  there  was 
little  pleasure  in  walking  about  crowded  streets,  and 
being  possibly  followed  and  mobbed  and  stared  at. 

"  Why  should  the  crowd  stare  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Because,  Miss  Nancy,"  Edward  replied  quickly, 
"  they  always  stare  at  every  handsome  woman,  and 
they  always  mob  and  follow  her  if  she  happens  to  be 
very  handsome." 

It  was  prettily  said,  and  thqre  was  no  answer  possi- 


The  Masquerade.  147 

bic.  At  least  none  occurred  to  me.  Yet  I  knew  very- 
well  that  this  was  not  meant. 

"Should  we,"  I  said,  "go  to  see  the  Court?  We 
are  told  that  any  one  decently  dressed  is  admitted  in 
the  afternoon?  I  should  like  to  see  his  Majesty,  if 
only  once." 

"  I  fear  not,"  said  Sir  George  quickly.  "  The  King 
is  old  :  the  Court  is  now  very  quiet :  it  is,  I  am  told, 
greatly  desired  to  keep  it  quiet.  Your  loyalty.  Miss 
Nancy,  were  better  displayed  by  keeping  away.  Yet 
a  chance  may  occur  when  I  might  show  you  St. 
James's." 

"  Then,  Sir  George,"  said  my  cousin,  "  should  we 
not  leave  the  choice  to  yourself?" 

"  It  is  a  grave  responsibility.  Madam,"  he  replied. 
"  Nothing  less  than  to  make  or  to  mar  the  happiness 
of  two  most  amiable  ladies  for  a  whole  evening.  I 
say  the  evening,  because  at  that  hour  there  is  less 
danger  of  being  followed  and  mobbed." 

This  was  one  of  a  hundred  indications  which  he 
gave  of  an  unwillingness  to  be  recognised.  For  my 
own  part,  I  could  see  no  reason  why  any  young  man 
should  fear  recognition,  or  dread  being  followed. 

"  No  one  will  recognise  you,  George,"  said  his 
brother,  "  outside  St.  James's  Street.  But,  if  you 
please,  let  us  choose  the  evening.  We  will  go  where 
we  can  find  company,  music,  dancing,  and  supper. 
Will  that  please  you.  Miss  Nancy?" 

"  What  is  there,  Edward  ?  "  asked  Sir  George. 

"  To-night  there  is  a  ball  at  Carlisle  House,  Soho 
— one  of  Madame  Cornely's  subscription  balls," 


14S  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Sir  George  shook  his  head.  "  You  can  afford  to  go 
there,  Edward,  perhaps.     I  cannot." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  Vauxhall?  " 

"  The  last  time  I  went  there  it  was  full  of  tallow 
chandlers." 

"  So  long  as  they  leave  their  tallow  at  home,  what 
matter?     What  do  you  say  to  Ranelagh  ?  " 

"To  walk  round  and  round  with  a  crowd  of  chatter- 
ing women  all  talking  about  each  other.  Our  friends, 
brother,  would  quickly  tire  of  Ranelagh." 

"  Well,  then,  there  is  a  grand  masquerade  to-morrow 
evening  at  the  Marylebone  Gardens." 

"  We  could  all  wear  dominoes,  I  suppose.  The 
place  could  not  possibly  be  worse  than  Vauxhall.  It 
might  amuse  our  friends  to  witness  the  amusements  of 
the  people." 

We  looked  at  each  other.  A  masquerade  !  Surely 
this  was  not  a  form  of  amusement  which  decorum  al- 
lowed to  a  lady. 

"  You  have  never  seen  a  masquerade,  Madam  ?  "  I 
suppose  we  both  looked  astonished. 

"  I  have  always  been  given  to  understand,"  my 
cousin  replied,  "  that  none  but  females  who  have  lost 
respect  for  their  reputation  are  ever  seen  there." 

"  I  observe,  Madam,  with  admiration,  the  jealousy 
with  which  City  ladies  regard  their  pleasures.  It  is 
true  that  after  midnight  these  masquerades  often  be- 
come scenes  of  riot.  Before  that  hour,  they  are  gen- 
erally amusing,  and  sometimes  full  of  surprises  and  of 
vivacity.  Believe  me,  dear  Madam,  we  would  not  in- 
vite you  to  an  orgy,  any  more  than  we  would  escort 
you  to  a  cock-fight  or  a  prize-fight." 


The  Masquerade*  HO 

"  To  be  sure,  Sir,  we  can  trust  ourselves  with  you. 
If  you  think  that  we  could  go " 

"  I  not  only  think  you  can,  but  I  think  you  should, 
as  to  a  sight  worth  seeing.  Briefly,  dear  ladies,  if  you 
care  to  be  present  at  a  scene  of  harmless  merriment 
and  good-natured  frolic,  w^e  will  attend  you  there.  I 
think  I  can  promise  that  you  will  experience  no  other 
inconveniences  or  rudenesses  than  one  may  expect 
among  persons  all  disguised."  He  spoke  with  anima- 
tion, as  if  he  was  anxious  that  we  should  go. 

My  cousin  still  hesitated,  thus  showing  that  some 
traces  yet  remained  of  her  Quaker  experiences.  For 
myself,  I  was  now  quite  abandoned,  and  ready  for  any 
innocent  pleasure  that  the  world  affords,  especially  in 
such  company. 

Well,  after  a  little  demur,  she  acquiesced.  For  my 
own  part,  I  confess  I  was  most  curious  to  see  a  public 
assembly,  particularly  one  in  which  everybody  was  in 
disguise. 

"  I  am  the  widow  of  a  sober  merchant,"  said  Isabel. 
"  What  would  that  sober  merchant — himself  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends — say  and  think  if  he  saw  his 
relict  at  a  masquerade  disguised  and  wearing  a  dom- 
mo .'' 

"  He  would  call  it  the  enlargement  of  your  mind, 
Madam.  He  was,  no  doubt,  a  reasonable  person,  al- 
though a  Quaker,  and  has  now  discovered  that  the 
amusements  of  the  world  are  not  only  innocent,  but 
laudable.  Else  why  were  they  created  ?  Doubtless, 
he  now  regrets  that  on  earth  he  had  no  share  in  them. 
We  might  even  picture,"  he  added  gravely,  "the  soul 


ISO  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

in  Heaven  regretting  that  it  never  learned  to  dance 
on  earth," 

It  was  agreed,  then,  that  we  should  go  to  the  mas- 
querade, provided  that  we  were  not  to  remain  after 
supper,  when  revelry  would  come  in,  and  manners 
would  go  out.  As  for  the  characters  we  were  to  as- 
sume, it  appeared  that  if  we  put  on  something,  or  car- 
ried something  appropriate  to  the  character  assumed, 
or  to  its  history,  that  would  be  enough  to  indicate  our 
intention.  Otherwise  it  might  be  difficult  to  obtain  a 
dress  such  as  that  worn  by  the  character  assumed,  or, 
as  in  the  case  of  that  chosen  for  myself,  even  impossi- 
ble. 

We  then,  sitting  round  the  table,  with  great  solem- 
nity proceeded  to  pass  in  review  famous  women,  begin- 
ning with  the  history  of  our  own  country  and  going 
on  to  other  countries  and  even  back  to  remote  history. 
You  would  not  believe,  if  you  have  not  already  en- 
joyed this  experience,  how  difficult  it  is  to  choose  a 
character  for  a  masquerade,  especially  if  your  friends 
are  jealous  of  your  reputation.  First,  I  remember,  we 
thought  of  Queen  Boadicea,  but  she  would  be  useless 
without  her  chariot  and  her  two  daughters,  therefore 
she  was  dismissed.  How  could  we  introduce  her  char- 
iot into  Marylebone  Gardens  ?  Next  Fair  Rosamond 
was  proposed,  but  Sir  George  objected  on  account  of 
her  character:  he  could  not  bear,  he  said,  that  Miss 
Nancy's  name  should  be  coupled  with  one  whose  con- 
duct might  be  forgiven,  but  could  not  be  forgotten. 
The  same  objection  was  raised  to  the  character  of 
Jane    Shore,  even  if   I  presented  myself   barefooted, 


The  Masquerade,  151 

bareheaded,  in  a  white  skirt  and  carrying  a  wax  taper, 
doing  penance.  "  I  suppose,"  said  Edward,  "  that  we 
must  not  so  much  as  mention  Nell  Gwynne  or  Lady 
Castlemaine?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Sir  George,  colouring.  "  How 
can  we  even  name  such  persons  in  this  presence?  " 

"  There  is  Anne  Boleyn." 

"  The  mother  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  But,  if  we  choose 
Anne  Boleyn,  it  would  be  taken  as  a  protest  against 
her  execution.  One  would  not  choose  to  condemn 
the  judgment  of  the  King." 

"  There  is  Mary  Queen  of  Scots." 

"  For  private  reasons,"  said  Sir  George,  "  I  should 
take  it  as  a  personal  honour  if  Miss  Nancy  played  that 
part  " — I  knew^  not  what  he  meant — "  for  I  believe 
that  if  ever  any  woman  was  maligned  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  is  one.  But  I  cannot  deny  that  there  are  grave 
historians  who  believe  her  life  to  have  been  what  her 
enemies  pretended.  Therefore  we  will  pass  over  the 
name  of  Mary.  Miss  Nancy,"  he  spoke  earnestly, 
"you  could  not  take  her  part  without  interesting 
yourself  in  her  history,  which  is,  I  assure  you,  a  tan- 
gled mass  of  invention  and  lies." 

Some  one  suggested  Queen  Elizabeth.  "  Her  fea- 
tures," said  Sir  George,  "were  strongly  marked:  her 
eyes  were  piercing :  her  hair  was  red  :  her  port  was 
imperious.  Miss  Nancy,  whose  eyes  are  all  gentle- 
ness and  softness,  and  her  face  all  maidenly  sweetness, 
could  not  possibly  represent  that  part." 

What  were  we  to  do  then  ?  Where  to  find  an  illus- 
trious woman  ?     Observe  that    none  of  us  were  stu- 


i^2  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

dents  of  history.  However,  we  proceeded  to  think  of 
names  in  ancient  history,  of  which  the  gentlemen 
seemed  to  know  something.  Most  of  the  names  pro- 
posed  were  strange  to  me.  For  instance,  there  was 
the  name  of  Helen  of  Troy.  I  had  read  somewhere 
that  she  was  the  loveliest  woman  of  her  time  (for 
which  reason  it  would  have  been  a  pleasant  piece  of 
presumption  to  represent  her).  It  now  appeared  that 
she  had  actually  run  away  from  her  own  husband. 
This  deplorable  act  not  only  caused  a  ten  years'  war 
and  the  destruction  of  a  noble  city,  but  also  prevented 
me  from  attending  the  masquerade  in  her  character. 
Queen  Dido,  for  much  the  same  reason,  as  I  con- 
cluded, for  I  knew  not  the  history  of  that  sovereign, 
was  next  rejected.  So  also  were  other  Queens  and 
great  ladies.  Zenobia,  Cleopatra,  Aspasia,  Theodora, 
and  others  whose  names  and  actions  I  have  forgotten 
if  I  ever  knew  them,  all  of  them,  it  appeared,  though 
great  in  other  respects,  were  (unless  they  were  ma- 
ligned) cracked  in  reputation. 

"  Should  I  go  as  a  Vestal  Virgin?  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Sir  George.  "You  to  go  as  a  wo- 
man who  has  forsworn  love?  Why  .  .  .  Miss  Nancy, 
you  were  born  for  love." 

"  We  might,"  observed  his  brother,  "  cause  her  to 
accept  a  lover  publicly,  and  so  to  break  her  vows. 
This  would  make  an  interesting  play  for  the  masquer- 
ade. At  the  same  time,  for  a  Vestal  to  break  her  vows 
was  anciently  thought  to  be  the  worst  possible  omen, 
and  to  be  productive  of  the  greatest  national  calami- 
ties."    He  looked  strangely  at  his  brother  as  he  spoke. 


The  Masquerade.  iS3 

"No  Vestal  Virgin,  then,"  said  Sir  George.  "We 
will  avoid  national  calamities." 

What  was  to  be  tried  next?  After  ancient  history, 
sacred  history.  It  was  then  suggested  that  Deborah, 
Miriam,  Judith,  or  Esther  might  be  attempted.  But 
I  could  not  consent  to  take  into  a  masquerade — a 
place  containing  many  scoffers — women  belonging  to 
the  Bible. 

"  Let  us  try  the  women  of  the  poets,"  said  my 
cousin.  "  There  are  the  creations  of  Shakspere : 
Portia  the  lawyer  :  the  loving  Cordelia  :  the  unfortu- 
nate Ophelia:  Juliet,  the  child  of  fourteen:  Rosalind 
in  the  dress  of  a  boy " 

"  Nay,"  said  Sir  George  impatiently — I  have  said 
that  he  loved  not  poetry — "  Miss  Nancy  must  not 
wear  the  dress  of  a  boy.  Let  us  leave  the  foolish 
poets  and  find  something  for  her  that  the  world  will 
understand." 

"  We  waste  our  time,"  said  his  brother.  "  What 
character  can  we  find  more  fitting  for  Miss  Nancy 
than  Venus  herself,  the  Goddess  of  Love  ?  " 

"Venus?"  cried  my  cousin,  looking  up  at  a  certain 
picture  on  her  walls,  "  why — how  in  the  world  would 
you  present  her?  " 

"  Nothing  more  easy.  She  will  go  in  her  ordinary 
white  dress,  in  which  Venus  herself  could  not  look 
more  divine  :  she  will  have  a  golden  belt  about  her 
waist :  everybody  will  understand  that — all  the  women 
who  have  been  compared  to  Venus  by  their  lovers; 
and  every  man  who  has  been  flogged  through  his 
Latin  Grammar  and  his  Ovid.     The  golden  belt  will 


154  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

proclaim  her  :  perhaps  you  might  add  a  flowing  robe 
of  muslin — say  blue — to  look  like  the  old  God's 
Heaven  :  and  she  might  carry  a  sceptre  in  one  hand, 
and  a  golden  apple  in  the  other.  You  remember, 
brother,  that  the  shepherd  bestowed  the  golden  apple 
upon  Venus  as  the  most  beautiful." 

"  Did  he?"  Sir  George  was  not  greatly  concerned 
with  mythology.  "  Perhaps  he  was  right,  so  long  as 
Miss  Nancy  was  not  there." 

I  laughed.  "You  are  both  bent  on  making  me 
blush  with  your  compliments.  Let  me  have  the 
golden  apple,  if  you  like  ;  but  my  sceptre  shall  be  my 
fan." 

So  that  was  arranged.  Then  came  my  cousin. 
How  was  she  to  go  ?  "  As  Diana,"  said  Edward. 
"  Madam,  as  the  huntress  with  a  quiver  at  your  back 
filled  with  arrows  ;  a  bow  in  your  hand,  and  a  crescent 
moon  above  your  forehead,  the  whole  world  will  swear 
that  you  are  Diana  to  the  life." 

"  Shall  I  be  asked  to  shoot  any  one  ? "  asked  my 
cousin. 

"If  any  one  should  be  rude,  you  will  turn  him  into 
a  stag  and  hunt  him.  You  must  take  care  of  the 
whole  party,  most  dread  Diana.  There  is  one  thing, 
however,  I  learned  once,  that  gods  and  goddesses  are 
jealous.  Will  the  real  Venus  forgive  one  before  whom 
her  beauty  pales  ?  Will  the  real  Diana  burst  with 
envy  at  the  sight  of  her  supplanter?  " 

So,  after  a  great  deal  of  talk,  this  important  matter 
was  decided. 

The   next    morning   we    spent  in  the  manner   cus- 


The  Masquer ade,  155 

tomary  (say  necessary)  for  women  who  are  going  to 
an  entertainment  where  all  the  world  will  have  on 
their  best  frocks.  We  sat  together,  that  is,  with  our 
whole  wardrobe  spread  out  before  us,  and  considered 
what  we  should  wear  in  the  evening.  Oh  !  Friends, 
once  truly  Friends  !  Oh  I  Society  of  Friends  !  Oh  ! 
solemn  Meeting  House  and  silent  congregation!  Oh! 
Brother  with  the  broad  brim  !  Oh  !  Sisters  with  the 
flat  straw  hat  and  the  grey  stuff !  Alas !  How 
changed  was  this  damsel,  once  so  meek  and  silent, 
once  wrapped  in  continual  meditation  upon  things 
which  she  could  never  understand,  and  tortured  by 
terrors  which  she  could  never  drive  away.  Behold  her 
now,  full  of  anxiety — not  about  her  soul — but  about 
her  frock;  about  her  head;  about  the  decorations  of 
that  worthless  person  which  she  had  been  taught  to 
consider  was  already,  even  in  comely  youth,  little  better 
than  dust  and  ashes  ! 

"Yes,  dear  child,"  said  Isabel:  "the  world  has  plea- 
sures which  draw  us  on.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  cer- 
tain that  we  were  designed  by  Heaven  always  to  seek 
after  happiness.  When  we  have  settled  these  things 
of  real  importance,  I  will  prove  to  you  by  argument 
that  we  do  right  to  be  happy  when  we  can." 

While  we  were  thus  debating,  Molly  running  up 
and  down  between  kitchen  and  parlour,  grappling 
with  the  double  cares  of  dress  and  dinner,  there  came 
a  messenger — Molly  said  he  was  a  footman  with  a 
most  splendid  livery — who  brought  a  large  parcel. 
Imagine  our  delight  when  we  opened  it !  First  of  all 
there  was  Venus's  belt  of  gold — I  did  not  think  them 


is6  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

in  earnest  about  it,  but  they  were.  It  was  a  belt  of 
pure  gold — what  is  called  filigree  gold,  of  the  kind 
they  make  in  Venice,  I  am  told :  it  was  open-work 
about  three  inches  broad,  with  a  buckle  set  with 
pearls:  never  was  a  more  delightful  belt  or  girdle.  It 
fitted  my  waist  so  perfectly  that  it  would  have  been 
miraculous  had  not  Molly  confessed  to  giving  the 
measurement.  With  the  belt  was  an  apple,  a  large 
pippin  gilt  and  pierced  so  as  to  admit  a  ribbon  with 
which  to  tie  it  to  my  wrist  :  and,  for  sceptre,  there 
was  a  fan — a  large  and  beautiful  fan — painted  on  one 
side  with  Cupids  flying,  Cupids  shooting,  Cupids  lying 
hidden  behind  flowers:  and  in  the  midst  Venus  herself 
rising  out  of  the  waters.  All  this  was  meant  for  me. 
For  Diana  there  was  the  bow — about  three  feet  long 
and  adorned  with  ribbons — a  quiver  of  open  silver 
wire  twisted  together,  and  half-a-dozen  sticks,  feathered 
and  gilt,  to  represent  the  arrows  of  the  huntress.  In 
addition,  there  was  a  thin  silver  plate  shaped  like  the 
crescent  moon  ;  and  a  fan  like  mine,  but  representing 
the  miserable  fate  of  Actaeon  when  he  surprised 
Diana  bathing  in  the  river. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Isabel,  "  these  things  are  vanities, 
indeed.  What  would  your  brother  say?  But  Nancy, 
they  mean — what  do  they  mean  ?  They  are  rich 
young  men.  I  sometimes  think  that  they  may  be  of 
higher  rank  than  they  confess.  Well :  for  to-night  let 
us  enjoy  ourselves — low  rank  or  high  rank :  they  are 
but  men  :  and  when  a  young  man  is  in  love  speak  he 
must  ere  long — or  die.     I  say  no  more,  my  dear." 

My  frock  was  the  best  I  had,  you  may  be  sure ;  of 


The  Masqtierade.  i57 

white  satin  over  a  great  hoop:  given  to  me  by  Isabel. 
I  was  all  in  white :  my  cousin's  lace  adorned  my 
throat  and  my  wrists :  I  wore  a  white  silver  chain 
about  my  neck,  white  gloves  and  white  ribbons  in  the 
lofty  structure  of  my  head.  Our  hairdressers  came  at 
four,  and  finished  us  before  six  !  Oh  !  what  a  day  was 
that,  spent  altogether  in  making  oneself  fine  !  As  for 
my  cousin,  she  swore  that  she  had  never  enjoyed  such 
a  day  since  she  was  herself  a  girl,  and  went  to  her  first 
assembly  at  Grocers'  Hall.  "To  dress  thee,  Nancy, 
recalls  the  day  of  my  first  ball  before  I  met  my 
Reuben  and  turned  Quaker.  That  was  a  day  !  Alack  ! 
That  youth  should  so  quickly  fly  !  Well— to-night  the 
folk-  shall  see  Venus  herself.  And  I  know  who  longs 
to  say  so — but  I  say  no  more,  my  dear." 

Our  escort  arrived  at  about  seven  with  a  coach  and 
four  horses.  They  brought  the  dominoes — oh  !  the 
pretty  little  black  things.  How  saucy  could  one  be  in 
a  domino,  with  no  one  to  know  her  name  ! 

"  Put  it  on  before  you  get  into  the  coach,"  said  Sir 
George.     "  Then  no  one  will  recognise  you." 

For  themselves,  they  waited  till  we  drew  near  the 
place  where  the  crowd  began  to  be  thick,  before  they 
put  on  their  own.  They  were  dressed  with  great  rich- 
ness and  magnificence,  in  crimson  coats  lined  with 
white  silk,  flowered  silk  waistcoats,  and  gold  buckles 
on  their  shoes. 

Marylebone  Gardens  lie  in  the  fields  (which  are  now, 
I  hear,  mostly  built  over)  north  of  Tyburn  Road. 
The  gates  are  opposite  Marylebone  Church,  a  neat 
and  handsome  structure.     They  are  approached  by  a 


15S  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

lane  called  the  Marylebone  Lane.  Outside  the  gates 
and  half-way  down  Marylebone  Lane  there  was  col- 
lected a  crowd  of  people  come  to  see  the  dresses  and 
the  disguises :  link-boys  ran  along  with  the  carria^-es, 
and  the  people  looked  in  and  shouted  their  approval 
or  the  reverse.  For  ourselves,  we  received,  one  is 
pleased  to  remember,  a  continuous  roar  of  approba- 
tion. "  They  are  so  polite,"  said  Sir  George,  "  that 
one  would  almost  like  you  to  take  off  your  domino." 

For  myself,  as  this  was  my  first  experience  of  the 
nocturnal  pleasures  of  London,  I  felt  a  strange  timid- 
ity of  expectation  as  we  entered  the  gates.  There 
were  already  a  considerable  company  assembling : 
and  more  arrived  continually  :  all  were  walking  in  one 
direction,  which  we  followed.  The  way  led  through 
an  avenue  of  trees,  lit  with  lamps  hanging  from 
the  branches,  but  at  rare  intervals,  so  that  at  best 
there  was  but  twilight  in  that  avenue  beyond  the 
gate.  Suddenly,  however,  we  burst  upon  the  main 
avenue.  Then,  indeed,  I  started  with  surprise  and 
admiration.  The  avenue  was  broad  and  long:  it  had 
rows  of  beautiful  trees  on  either  side  :  coloured  lamps 
hung  in  festoons  from  tree  to  tree  :  there  were  thou- 
sands of  coloured  lamps  :  we  walked  beneath  these 
lights,  the  ladies'  dresses  showing  a  quick  succession 
of  varying  hues  :  at  the  end  there  were  certain  erec- 
tions standing  out  in  a  blaze  of  light.  As  for  the 
company,  I  paid  no  attention  to  them,  being  wholly 
absorbed  in  admiring  the  beautiful  lights.  When  we 
came  to  the  end  of  the  avenue  we  were  in  an  open 
space,  which  was  boarded  over  and  already  crowded 


The  Masquerade.  159 

with  people.  In  a  balcony  covered  over  to  keep  off 
rain  the  band  was  playing  an  accompaniment  softly, 
while  a  woman  richly  dressed  was  singing  some  song, 
the  words  of  which  I  could  not  distinguish.  Half  the 
people,  however,  were  not  listening. 

On  the  other  side  rose  another  building  also  filled 
with  light.  Behind  and  between  the  trees  were  alcoves 
illuminated  with  colored  lamps.  In  these  alcoves 
parties  were  already  gathered  over  supper  and  bowls  of 
punch. 

"  Behold  our  masquerade,"  said  Sir  George.  "  We 
will  do  what  all  the  world  docs.  First  we  will  walk 
round  the  Hall,  and  then  we  will  come  out  to  see  the 
mummers." 

We  followed  the  throng  and  entered.  Sir  George 
walking  first,  with  me  :  and  his  brother  following  after 
with  my  cousin.  I  found  myself  in  a  large  square 
room:  the  walls,  painted  a  light  blue,  were  decorated 
with  pictures  of  nymphs  and  swans;  Loves  and  god- 
desses :  flowers  and  fruit  :  there  were  also  large  mir- 
rors at  intervals,  in  which  I  observed  that  the  whole 
company  gazed  as  they  passed.  A  gallery  contained 
accommodation  for  a  band  :  the  floor  was  smooth  for 
dancing :  but  to-night,  the  weather  being  fair  and 
warm,  the  dancing  was  to  be  outside  :  round  the  wall 
were  seats  if  any  chose  to  rest. 

"  We  walk  round,"  said  Sir  George,  "  and  look  at 
each  other." 

All  the  women  wore  masques,  and  nearly  all  were 
in  character  of  some  kind.  One  in  black  silk  and  carry- 
ing a  lute,   was   the    Muse  of  Comedy.     A   Turkish 


i6o  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Sultana  in  short  skirts  and  full  trousers  wore  a  crown 
to  mark  her  rank  :  two  Greek  slaves  followed  her, 
clinking  their  gilded  fetters  :  Queen  Elizabeth  ruined 
her  part  by  inattention  to  the  points  which  we  had 
considered  :  Dido  wept  perpetually — when  she  remem- 
bered to  weep.  Queens,  mistresses,  characters  from 
plays  and  poetry  followed  in  rapid  succession.  I 
know  not  how  many  came  as  Fair  Rosamond — you 
knew  her  by  her  bowl  of  poison :  I  remember  three 
Jane  Shores,  all  in  white,  with  tapers:  Nell  Gwynne 
was  so  great  a  favourite  that  one  hopes  her  history 
was  unknown:  Joan  of  Arc  was  there  in  multitudes: 
as  for  mythology,  one  could  not  have  believed  that  so 
many  women  understood  the  Deities  of  Olympus. 
Nymphs  of  every  kind  :  of  the  wood  :  of  the  stream  : 
of  the  ocean:  displayed  their  charms  with  liberality: 
all  the  greater  goddesses  were  there,  including  at  least 
twenty  Dianas  and  a  dozen  who  pretended  to  play  the 
part  of  Venus. 

They  were  all,  I  have  said,  in  domino.  The  gentle- 
men with  them  were  divided  about  equally,  some  being 
in  disguise  and  some  not ;  some  wearing  a  domino 
and  some  not.  I  observed  that  the  gentlemen,  though 
they  affected  the  finest  manners  possible,  paying 
extravagant  compliments  to  the  ladies,  and  even  walk- 
ing backwards,  did  not  possess  the  ease  which  alone 
can  give  to  fine  manners  their  charm  :  their  studied 
gestures  reminded  me  of  Robert  Storey :  when  I 
turned  to  my  partner  I  observed  at  once  the  great 
difference.  Yet  they  all  took  infinite  pains  to  show 
their  breeding,  handling  the    snuff-box,   for  instance, 


The  Masquerade.  i6i 

with  all  the  ceremony  and  pretence  which  that  per- 
formance demands  in  the  polite  world.  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  one  secret  of  good  manners  is  to 
assume  or  to  pretend  that  everything  is  of  the  great- 
est value  and  rarity — even  a  pinch  of  snuff :  a  glass  of 
wine  :  a  slice  of  chicken  :  a  hat  or  a  wig  :  a  man's 
opinion:  a  lady's  smile  :  a  woman's  face.  But  all  this, 
which  is  charming  when  it  is  done  with  ease,  just  as  a 
good  actor  will  play  his  part  so  naturally  as  to  appear 
not  an  actor  at  all,  is  ridiculous  when  it  is  clearly  pre- 
tence and  imitation. 

My  escort  looked  about  him  with  an  air  of  good- 
natured  disdain. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  "  who  they  are,  and  where 
they  come  from,  and  why  they  think  it  becoming  to 
mock  the  manners  of  gentlefolk." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  they  are  not  gentlefolk? 
They  are  well  dressed."  I  knew  for  my  own  part  that 
they  were  playing  at  good  manners :  but  I  wanted  to 
hear  what  he  would  say, 

"  Dress  maketh  not  the  man,"  he  replied.  "  What 
I  see  is  that  all  this  parade  of  compliment ;  this  making 
legs  and  brandishing  hat  and  snuff-box,  is  acting — and 
mostly  bad  acting.  I  should  like  to  see  their  real 
manners  off  the  stage  of  the  assembly  floor — in  their 
counting-house  and  their  shops." 

"  Remember,  Sir  George,  that  I  also  am  but  the 
daughter.  .  .  ," 

He  turned  his  eyes  from  the  crowd  to  me.  "  I  care 
not  whose  daughter  you  are.  Miss  Nancy.  It  is  suf- 
ficient for  me  to  know  that  you  are  the  most  beautb 


1 62  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

ful  woman  in  the  world,  with  the  finest  manners  and 
the  best  breeding.  There  is  not,  beheve  me,  a  single 
Court  lady  to  be  compared  with  thee."  He  took  my 
hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly.  The  open  Assembly 
Room  of  Marylebone  Gardens  is  not  the  place  for 
making  love,  however,  so,  for^the  moment,  he  said  no 
more.  And  then  I  observed  with  astonishment  that 
he  wore  on  his  breast  a  splendid  great  star,  blazing 
with  diamonds.  I  was  not  so  ignorant  as  not  to  know 
that  this  badge  denoted  high  rank. 

"  What,"  I  asked,  "  is  the  meaning  of  this  star.  Sir 
George  ?  You  have  hidden  something  from  me,  have 
you  not?  " 

"  Have  I  hidden  anything  from  you,  Nancy?  Be- 
lieve me,  dear  child,  there  was  good  reason.  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is,  if  you  desire  to  know." 

"  Nay,  I  am  content  to  wait  for  your  good  pleasure. 
Tell  me  when  you  please,  so  long  as  you  do  not  treat 
me  as  you  treat  these  people,  with  a  domino.  Let 
me  see  your  face  and  read  your  mind,  Sir  George." 

I  said  no  more,  but  I  confess  that  my  heart  sank  a 
little.  What  did  I  want  with  rank  ?  We  continued 
to  walk  round  the  room,  the  people  falling  back  at  the 
side.  So  great  is  the  respect  of  the  English  for  rank 
that  they  show  respect  even  for  the  star  that  indicates 
it,  not  knowing  even  the  name  of  the  person  it  adorns. 
Yet  so  much  of  the  Quaker  remains  in  me  that  I  re- 
spect the  man  first  and  his  rank  next. 

"  That  Marquis  of  Exeter  " — Sir  George  went  back 
to  the  story  which  had  so  taken  his  fancy — "  the  one 
who  wooed  a  village  maiden  and  married  her  and  took 


The  Masquerade.  163 

her  to  Burleigh  House.  He  did  wrongly.  He  should 
have  kept  her  in  her  village  all  her  life.  It  would  have 
been  happier  for  him  to  exchange  his  rank  and  dig- 
nity for  the  life  of  a  simple  country  gentleman ;  and 
for  her  to  live  in  ignorance  of  irksome  rank  with  all 
its  cares  and  responsibilities.  Ah,  Miss  Nancy  ! "  he 
murmured  ;  "  if  it  could  be  my  happy  lot  to  live  with 
such  a  companion — so  pure  and  sweet  and  innocent — 
untouched  by  the  world — free  from  ambition,  greed, 

or  self-interest — content  to  love  her  Lord "     He 

stopped  and  sighed. 

We  were  once  more  come  round  to  the  doors  of  the 
assembly  room,  having  walked  round  it  twice  or  three 
times  in  such  discourse  as  the  above.  At  the  doors, 
his  brother,  with  my  cousin,  was  waiting. 

"George,"  his  brother  called  him,  "they  are  danc- 
ing on  the  boards  outside.  Come  out  and  dance  just 
once.  Do  you  know,"  he  whispered,  "you  have  for- 
gotten to  take  off  your  star?  Never  mind  now. 
Perhaps  they  will  take  it  for  your  disguise :  there  is 
another  star  among  the  crowd  much  finer  than  yours 
— the  diamonds  from  Drury  Lane,  I  imagine :  they 
mark,  no  doubt,  the  rank  of  a  merchant's  rider  or  his 
accountant." 

Then  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  a  very  polite 
gentleman,  came  up,  and  with  smiling  obsequiousness, 
bowed  low  to  the  star. 

"  If  your  Lordship,"  he  said,  "  will  command  a  min- 
uet de  la  cour  :  if  the  Queen  of  Love  " — he  recognised 
the  emblem — "  will  consent  to  walk  a  minuet  with 
your  Lordship ■" 


164  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  If  fair  Venus  condescends."  Sir  George  led  me 
by  the  hand  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  before  all 
that  multitude  of  eyes.  I  know  that  they  were  ask- 
ing each  other  to  whom  the  star  belonged  and  who 
was  the  lady  his  partner.  I  knew  that  they  were 
expecting  to  witness  the  manner  and  style  of  the 
dance  as  practised  in  the  highest  circles.  Alas !  my 
dancing  mistress  was  but  the  daughter  of  one  City 
merchant  and  the  widow  of  another ;  my  style  was 
that  of  the  City  assembly. 

The  band  struck  up  the  first  bars.  The  dance  be- 
gan. I  have  reason  to  remember  that  dance  because 
it  was  the  first  and  the  last  dance  that  I  ever  per- 
formed in  a  public  place. 

You  have  seen  how  I  sometimes  danced  with  Sir 
George  at  home.  I  therefore  knew,  at  least,  his  style, 
and  had  borrowed  something,  perhaps,  of  his  dignity. 
He  moved,  indeed,  through  the  dance  with  a  courtli- 
ness and  an  authority  quite  in  keeping  with  the  spirit 
of  the  dance,  which  is  intended,  as  some  say,  to  indi- 
cate the  true  position  of  our  sex,  and  to  show  how  we 
should  be  treated  with  the  greatest  possible  honour 
and  respect,  if  only  to  make  us  endeavour  after  the 
virtues  which  the  men  attribute  to  us.  Others  there 
are  who  see  in  the  minuet  the  progress  of  a  courtly 
amour.  The  whole  company  stood  round  and  looked 
on  while  we  two  alone  occupied  the  floor :  and  prob- 
ably on  account  of  the  star,  they  all  applauded  loudly 
when  we  finished.  Then  we  retired,  and  they  made  a 
lane  to  let  us  pass. 

"Nancy,"  said  my  cousin,  "  we  are  proud  of  you. 
Everybody  was  charmed," 


The  Masqueracie*  ^65 

"  No  one  so  much  charmed  as  her  partner,"  said  Sir 
George. 

Then  the  masques  ran  over  the  floor  and  seized  it, 
so  to  speak  ;  and  some  began  to  dance — the  music 
playing  a  noisy  tune — in  country  dances,  while  others 
ran  about  making  jokes  and  rough  play.  For  half  a 
dozen  would  get  together  and  get  something  that  be- 
longed to  their  characters :  there  were  clowns  and 
French  Pierrots  all  in  white :  there  were  dancing  har- 
lequins :  there  were  sailors  in  petticoats  dancing  horn- 
pipes :  there  were  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  with 
crooks  and  ribbons:  there  were  negroes:  there  were 
milkmaids :  there  were  queens  without  dignity ;  and 
judges  without  authority:  there  were  devils  who 
caused  no  fear ;  in  short,  it  was  a  scene  of  pure  merri- 
ment and  of  simple  frolic,  so  far,  without  apparent 
rudeness  or  license.  As  we  stood  aloof,  yet  were  the 
object  of  much  attention,  some  of  the  mummers  came 
out  and  ventured  to  pray  to  me  as  to  a  goddess. 

"Fair  Venus,"  cried  one,  "soften  the  heart  of  my 
mistress  or  I  die  " ;  or,  "  Great  .Goddess  !  incline  my 
mistress's  heart,"  and  so  forth.  One  brought  a  censer, 
such  as  they  use  in  Roman  Catholic  churches,  and 
swung  it  before  me. 

"  Come,"  said  Sir  George,  "  we  shall  presently  have 
too  much  of  this,  brother ;  let  us  to  supper." 

In  one  of  the  alcoves  we  found  waiting  for  us  some 
partridges,  with  a  salad  and  a  bottle  of  Lisbon  ;  and, 
after  the  Lisbon,  a  bowl  of  punch. 

From  our  supper-table  we  could  look  out  upon  the 
revellers  capering   and    acting   and   laughing   on  the 


i66  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

dancing-stage.  Now  while  we  sat  there,  the  gentle- 
men over  their  punch,  I  was  surprised  to  see  under 
the  trees  before  our  alcove  Dr.  Mynsterchamber  him- 
self. What  was  he  doing  in  this  place,  at  his  age? 
He  had  three  or  four  gentlemen  with  him.  They 
were  all  masked,  but  I  knew  the  Doctor  by  his  long 
lean  figure  and  by  the  old  brown  coat  which  he  wore, 
frayed  and  threadbare.  What  was  the  Doctor  doing 
in  the  Gardens?  Why  did  he  and  his  friends  keep 
looking  into  our  alcove  ?  Why  did  they  stand  out- 
side waiting,  while  all  the  other  people  walked  about  ? 
The  sight  of  that  old  hawk  made  me  uneasy,  I  knew 
not  why. 

Then  I  observed  another  strange  thing.  Under  the 
trees  in  a  place  not  illuminated,  I  discerned,  having 
eyes  both  strong  and  quick,  two  figures  familiar  to 
me.  Presently  I  made  out  that  they  were  Captain 
Sellinger  and  Corporal  Bates.  Strange.  The  Captain 
at  the  Gardens  in  company  with  a  corporal !  Was  he 
drunk?  No;  he  stood  upright,  a  cane  in  his  hand, 
without  the  support  of  any  one.  What  were  they 
doing? 

About  half-past  eleven,  when  the  music  was  at  its 
loudest,  the  mummers  at  the  merriest,  and  queens, 
goddesses,  nymphs,  and  heroines  were  all  jumping 
about  like  Blowsabella  of  the  Village  Green  :  when 
from  the  alcoves  near  us  men  were  bawling  songs, 
whose  words,  happily,  were  lost  to  us,  we  rose  to  go, 
sorry  to  leave  the  scene  of  so  much  mirth,  yet  anxious 
not  to  witness  the  scenes  of  disorder  which  take 
place  later.     Many   ladies  were  directing  their  steps 


The  Masquerade.  167 

towards  the  gates  at  the  same  time  and  for  the  same 
reason. 

When  we  stood  outside  the  alcove,  just  before  we 
started,  the  Doctor  and  his  friends  moved  forward. 
With  what  object  I  know  not.  At  that  moment  Cap- 
tain SelHnger  stepped  out  of  the  shade  followed  by 
the  Corporal.  They  marched  straight  to  the  place 
where  we  were  standing :  and  there  they  stood  beside 
us,  but  facing  the  Doctor  and  his  party. 

No  one  seemed  to  notice  this  movement  except  my- 
self. We  then  walked  along  the  avenue  of  trees,  Sir 
George  leading  me  and  Edward,  my  cousin.  Behind 
us,  but  at  some  distance,  walked  the  Captain  and  the 
Corporal  ;  behind  them  the  Doctor  and  his  party. 

When  we  reached  the  gates  and  got  into  the  coach, 
I  looked  again.  Just  within  the  gates  stood  the  Cap- 
tain barring  the  way.  And  the  Doctor  and  his  party 
stood  irresolute.  For  some  reason  or  other  I  felt  sure 
that  they  were  baffled,  and  for  no  reason  at  all  I  con- 
nected their  proposed  action  with  the  gallant  youth 
who  held  my  hand  in  the  coach. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Molly  and  the  Corporal. 

Hitherto  I  have  told  you  what  I  saw  and  did  and 
heard  myself.  I  must  now  ask  you  to  read  something 
which  bears  upon  this  history,  yet  was  confessed  or 
dehvered  to  me  by  another  or  by  others. 

It  is  nothing  less  than  the  reason  why  Captain  Bel- 
linger was  at  Marylebone  Gardens  that  evening. 

Servants,  especially  women,  are  always  listening  and 
prying,  the  ear  at  the  door  ajar,  the  eye  at  the  key- 
hole. It  affords  them,  I  suppose,  some  pleasure,  unin- 
telligible by  ourselves,  to  find  out  what  is  going  on, 
even  when  there  is  nothing  to  conceal. 

My  own  maid  Molly,  a  person  of  great  curiosity, 
though  in  other  respects  an  excellent  woman,  when 
she  was  not  watching  her  mistress  and  trying  to  make 
out  which  was  the  lover,  turned  her  attention  to  the 
other  residents  of  the  house.  The  Corporal  and  Mrs. 
Bates  had  become  her  intimate  friends :  Captain  Sel- 
linger  provoked  no  curiosity — a  man  who  is  drunk 
every  day  cannot  be  interesting  to  a  woman  who  nat- 
urally prefers  Apollo  to  Bacchus :  therefore  there  re- 
mained  only  the  Doctor. 

"There  is  something  wrong,"  she  said — one  cannot 


Molly  and  the  Corporal.  169 

stop  the  tongue  of  a  woman  when  she  is  dressing  your 
hair.  "  The  Doctor  keeps  the  key  of  the  garden  door  " 
— it  opened  out  upon  the  park.  "  He  has  friends 
calHng  all  day  long :  they  come  in  at  the  front  door, 
and  he  lets  them  out  by  the  garden  door.  He  thinks 
I  can't  see  out  of  the  kitchen  window  for  the  shrubs, 
but  I  can.  They  whisper  in  the  passage  :  sometimes 
they  go  out  quite  late  at  night." 

One  did  not  encourage  her  in  these  confidences; 
but  it  was  strange.  What  was  the  man  doing  that  he 
should  receive  visitors  by  day  and  night  in  this  secret 
manner  ?  He  might  be  a  wizard,  perhaps  :  or  a  for- 
tune-teller, or  an  astrologer:  there  are  always  plenty 
of  these  gentry  about  for  those  who  wish  to  learn  the 
future  and  make  themselves  miserable  beforehand  ;  to 
be  sure,  the  Doctor  looked  like  a  gentleman  though  he 
went  about  with  torn  ruffles  and  ragged  skirts.  How- 
ever, the  subject  concerned  us  not,  and,  besides,  there 
were  more  pleasant  things  to  think  about. 

But  Molly  communicated  her  suspicions  to  the  Cor- 
poral, who  frequently  took  a  pipe  of  tobacco  in  the 
kitchen  of  an  evening  with  a  tankard  of  our  small  ale, 
to  which  the  honest  fellow  was  truly  welcome. 

He  listened  carelessly,  at  first,  as  not  concerned 
with  a  prying  woman's  chatter:  a  gentleman  had  a 
right  to  receive  his  friends  at  one  door  and  to  let  them 
out  at  another  if  he  pleases.  There  is  no  law  against 
whispering  in  the  passage  :  one  is  not  compelled  to  go 
to  bed  at  midnight. 

"But,"  said  Molly,  mysteriously,  "they  talk  a  for- 
eign jarcfon." 


170  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"What  language?"  he  asked.  "  Molly,  it  may  he 
pure  Yorkshire  or  Welsh." 

"  It  may  be  French,"  she  replied.  And  at  this  the 
Corporal  sat  up,  attentive. 

At  that  time,  as  everybody  knows,  we  were  at  war 
with  France.  If  it  was  French,  what  did  Frenchmen 
do  in  St.  James's  Place?  The  Corporal,  therefore, 
became  thoughtful :  he  put  down  his  pipe  and  con- 
sidered the  subject.  Presently,  after  binding  Molly 
over  on  the  New  Testament  to  secrecy,  he  told  her 
that  bethought  it  might  be  worth  his  while  to  become, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  spy  ;  he  would  watch 
and  listen :  he  would  find  out  why  this  company 
talked  a  foreign  language.  A  spy,  he  explained,  was 
a  person  whose  occupation  justly  stinks;  yet  in  such 
a  cause  as  this:  for  country  and  King:  as  a  soldier: 
a  man  must  not  shrink.  Besides,  he  confessed,  much 
advantage,  in  case  of  the  thing  proving  important, 
might  accrue  to  his  own  interests. 

He  was  moved,  therefore,  to  turn  spy,  and  to  watch 
the  Doctor  closely  and  constantly. 

"The  thing,"  he  said,  "must  be  done  by  rule  and 
plan,  as  one  lays  siege  to  a  fortification.  Let  us  con- 
sider. At  two  the  Doctor  goes  to  his  dinner:  he  re- 
turns at  six.  He,  therefore,  after  dinner,  sits  in  the 
coffee-house.  His  habits  and  his  hours  are  fixed, 
Molly,  I  shall  procure  a  master-key.  That  in  our 
hands,  we  will  to-morrow  shut  the  front  door  when  the 
Doctor  goes  out,  and  I  will  then  secretly  make  a  first 
examination  of  the  country." 

This   he   did.     He  found    the   room  as  you    have 


Molly  and  the  Corporal.  171 

heard.  There  were  papers  on  the  table  which  he  did 
not  disturb ;  but  he  examined  the  wall.  The  room 
was  wainscotted  like  our  own  upstairs.  He  measured 
a  certain  distance  from  the  fireplace  at  the  height  of 
his  own  eye  :  he  then  came  out  having  touched  noth- 
ing on  the  table,  nor  opened  the  cupboard  or  the  box. 
"  That  will  do  for  a  beginning,"  he  said.  "  You  can 
open  the  front  door  again,  Molly,  and  the  Doctor 
may  return  when  he  pleases." 

He  then  returned  to  the  kitchen,  the  walls  of  which 
were  plastered  with  a  yellow  stuff :  he  scraped  away  a 
square  space  at  a  place  corresponding  to  his  measure- 
ments in  the  other  room,  and  with  some  difTficulty  re- 
moved two  or  three  bricks  from  the  party-wall.  He 
could  then  put  his  eye  close  to  the  wainscotting  in 
the  other  room.  "  A  small  skewer,  Molly,"  he  called. 
With  this  he  made  half-a-dozen  little  holes  in  the 
wainscotting  which  would  be  invisible  the  other  side. 
"  Excellent  !  I  can  now  command  the  table,  and  I 
think  I  shall  hear  what  they  say.  Molly,  there  must 
be  no  talking  in  the  kitchen  while  these  bricks  are 
out.  Every  evening  I  shall  take  them  out :  every 
evening  I  shall  put  them  back  :  you  must  cover  the 
place  with  a  frying-pan  or  something  in  the  daytime." 

In  the  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  the  Doctor's 
friends  arrived :  there  were  four  or  five  of  them,  and 
they  entered  by  the  front  door  singly  and  without 
knocking  at  the  door,  which  stood  open. 

The  Corporal  took  down  the  frying-pan,  removed 
the  bricks,  and  stood  prying  through  one  of  the  holes, 
and  listened  intently. 


iy^  A  Fotintain  Seated* 

"  Molly,"  he  murmured,  "  they  are  talking  French. 
A  fortunate  chance  indeed  that  I  should  understand 
that  language." 

So  he  listened  again,  very  earnestly.  "  Molly,"  he 
murmured  presently,  "  they  are  the  greatest  villains 
unhung.  They  are  traitors:  they  are  rebels:  they 
are  .  .  ."     Again  he  applied  himself. 

In  a  word,  save  for  occasional  whispered  ejacula- 
tions, the  Corporal  stood  there  till  eleven  o'clock, 
when  the  Doctor  arose  and  let  out  his  friends  by  the 
back  way,  Molly  blowing  out  the  candle  so  that  he 
should  not  suspect. 

The  Corporal  replaced  the  bricks,  hung  up  the  fry- 
ing-pan, and  went  to  bed,  where  he  lay  awake  all 
night  long,  thinking  what  he  had  better  do. 

In  the  morning  he  came  down,  greatly  moved  and 
agitated.  "  Molly,"  he  whispered,  "  not  a  word,  even 
to  your  ladies.  You  have  sworn.  There  will  be  mur- 
der if  you  talk.  Not  a  word,  Molly,  on  your  life. 
And  now  go  call  my  wife  downstairs."  She  came 
down,  the  poor  patient  thing,  so  hard-worked,  so  anx- 
ious about  her  brats.  "  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  cheer  up. 
Let  us  rejoice.  Look  out  upon  the  world  with  smil- 
ing face.  Behold  the  sun  :  the  clouds  fly,  the  rain 
stops,  I  see  fair  weather  coming.  My  dear,  something 
is  going  to  happen — some  great  thing — I  know  not 
yet  what  ;  but  some  great  thing.  I  must  drink  to  my 
good  fortune.  If  you  please,  Molly,  a  tankard — we 
will  all  drink.  Give  it  to  me.  Ha  !  "  He  poured  out 
a  glass  and  held  it  up  to  the  light.  "  It  foams  and 
sparkles,  and  the  bubbles  rise.     They  rise  like  me,  my 


Molly  and  the  Corporal.  173 

dear.  For  thy  husband  this  day  is  a  made  man.  It 
shall  mean — I  swear — my  commission — long  deferred 
— nothing  less."     He  still  held  the  glass  to  the  light. 

"My  dear,"  said  his  wife,  "has  trouble  driven  thee 
distraught  ?  " 

"  Distraught  ?  I  ?  Nay,  it  is  not  trouble  before  us, 
but  joy.  My  dear,  I  am  like  unto  one  who  lights  on 
buried  treasure.  I  see  before  me  a  splendid  future. 
Let  us  drink  first  to  the  Lieutenant — that  is,  to  me 
myself:  next  to  the  Lieutenant's  charming  wife — to 
thee,  my  dear:  then  to  the  Captain's  lovely  consort — 
to  thee,  my  dear  ;  and  lastly,  to  the  Colonel's  honoured 
lady — to  thee,  Madam,  to  thee." 

"  Oh  !  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  drink  to  you,  my  dear — always  to  you — in  silk 
and  satin,  the  Pride  of  the  Regiment  ! " 

He  finished  the  tankard  and  set  it  down.  "And 
now,"  he  said,  "  I  go  to  consult  Captain  Sellinger.  I 
am  the  bearer  of  State  news — State  Despatches.  I 
am  a  Royal  Messenger!  " 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Molly,  "  the  Captain  was  put  to 
bed  last  night,  and  he  will  be  sleeping  still." 

That  was,  in  fact,  the  case.  The  Corporal  had, 
therefore,  to  wait  until  noon,  when  he  waited  upon 
him  while  he  was  dressing. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Corporal,  "  my  errand  shall  prove,  I 
make  bold  to  say,  an  excuse  for  this  intrusion  upon 
your  privacy." 

"  Corporal,  you  have  your  Lieutenants :  you  have 
the  Captain  of  your  troop.  If  your  business  concerns 
your  troop,  go  to  them," 


174  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  It  does  not,  Sir,  It  is  a  business  of  so  great  im- 
portance that  I  crave  permission  to  pour  it  into  your 
Honour's  ears.  After  that,  if  you  so  direct,  I  will  take 
it  to  my  own  Captain." 

"Go  on,  then.  Corporal.  But  first  give  me  the 
tankard."  The  Captain  took  a  long  drink  of  that  re- 
freshing creature,  small  ale,  with  which  he  would  al- 
ways revive  his  spirits  in  the  morning.  "  So,"  he 
said,  "  the  night  was  cheerful :  the  punch  was  strong." 
He  sat  on  the  table  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  his  stockings 
down  at  heel,  his  hair  not  dressed.  "  Now  I  am  ready  ; 
go  on.  Corporal." 

What  he  heard  was  what  you  have  already  surmised. 
The  Doctor  on  the  ground  floor  was  both  a  Jacobite  and 
a  French  spy.  His  friends,  also  Jacobites,  appeared 
to  be  of  English  descent,  but,  as  they  spoke  French 
fluently,  were  probably  the  sons  or  grandsons  of  those 
who  formed  the  Court  of  James  II.  in  exile,  whom  he 
created  earls  and  barons.  They  were  talking  over  the 
chances  of  a  rising  or  demonstration  in  favour  of  the 
Pretender  whenever  the  King,  who  was  already  seventy- 
seven  years  of  age,  should  die.  For  greater  security 
as  they  fondly  thought,  they  conversed  in  French.  As 
for  their  hopes  they  were  assured  of  support  in  many 
quarters — it  was  not,  remember,  more  than  fifteen  years 
from  the  Rebellion  of  1745,  which  so  nearly  succeeded. 

That  was  the  general  purport  of  the  nightly  meet- 
ings. 

"  You  say,"  said  the  Captain,  thoughtfully,  after  an- 
other draught  of  ale,  "  that  they  have  papers  and  lists 
with  them." 


Molly  and  the  Girporal.  175 

"They  were  lying  on  the  table." 

"  If  the  Doctor  has  them  in  his  keeping  we  can  se- 
cure them  easily.  However — Hark  ye,  Corporal,  this 
business  should  be  told  to  your  Captain.  If  it  be- 
comes a  case  for  trial,  you  must  show  that  you  went  to 
the  right  quarter." 

"  By  your  leave.  Sir,  one  minute  more." 

"  If  they  want  to  proclaim  James  Francis  Edward  " 
— the  Captain  went  on — "  let  them.  I  would  counsel 
encouraging  them  till  they  grew  confident.  We  shall 
then  know  who  are  his  friends  in  the  country  and 
shall  be  able  to  hang  'em  all  and  so  an  end." 

"  But  this  is  not  all,  Sir." 

"  Not  all !  What  the  devil  would  the  fellow  have  ? 
Will  they  carry  off  the  King?" 

"  You  shall  hear,  Sir.  They  have  hatched  a  most 
diabolical  plot,  which  will  be  carried  into  execution 
this  very  evening :  or  to-morrow  evening,  as  the  cir- 
cumstances will  allow." 

"  Go  on,  man.  Come  to  the  point.  What  is  their 
plot?" 

"  In  one  word,  Sir.  Two  young  gentlemen,  as  your 
Honour  very  well  knows,  come  to  this  house  often 
and  always  in  the  evening.  Your  Honour  knows 
their  faces  very  well.  So  do  I,  although  but  a  cor- 
poral, and  for  the  same  reason.  Well,  Sir,  they  shall 
be  nameless.  At  ten  o'clock,  or  thereabouts,  they 
come  downstairs,  thinking  of  nothing:  the  stairs  are 
dark:  suppose  an  ambuscade  ot  half-a-dozen  men  in 
the  dark  passage  :  suppose  the  Doctor's  door  suddenly 
thrown  open :  there  is  a  rush :  the  two  gentlemen  are 


17^  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

seized — gagged — handcuffed.  In  the  place  outside 
waits  a  coach  :  at  Westminster  Bridge  stairs  waits  a 
boat :  in  the  pool  lies  a  ship  ready  to  weigh  anclior 
and  drop  down  the  river,  and  so  cross  to  the  coast  of 
France." 

The  Captain  sprang  to  his  feet,  dropping  the  tank- 
ard and  spilling  the  beer.  "  Corporal  Bates,"  he  cried, 
"  I  believe  you  are  a  liar  of  the  first  water." 

"  I  wish  I  was.  Sir.  But  for  my  truth  and  honesty 
I  might  now  be  commanding  my  company." 

"  This  is  the  most  desperate  villainy  !  This  is  un- 
heard of !  The  King  so  old  "that  he  may  die  any  day 
.  .  .  How  many  of  them  are  there  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  six,  I  should  say.  But  there  may 
be  more  behind." 

"  Yes — more  behind,  perhaps — but  no  more  for  an 
attempt  in  a  narrow  passage.  Corporal,  if  you  are 
lying  .  .  ." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Corporal,  taking  a  Bible  which  lay, 
more  for  show,  I  fear,  than  for  use,  in  the  window,  "  I 
swear,  upon  this  sacred  volume  " — he  kissed  it — "  by 
all  my  hopes  of  eternal  happiness  ;  by  the  sacred 
name  of  God  Almighty,  that  every  word  is  true.  Cap- 
tain, this  evening  will  show  that  I  am  no  liar.  The 
ship  which  waits  for  them  is  a  brig  called  the  Tozver  of 
Brill,  Amsterdam.  The  captain  has  been  bought, 
though  I  believe  he  does  not  know  the  names  of  the 
gentlemen  he  is  to  take  across.  He  will  sail  into 
French  waters  and  will  become  a  French  prize :  the 
coach  has  been  hired  :  it  will  be  driven  by  one  of  the 
conspirators  :  they  will  assemble  to-night,  and  in  the 


Molly  and  the  Corporal.  177 

Doctor's  room  :  they  have  not  yet  decided  whether  to 
make  the  attempt  on  the  stairs  or  as  the  gentlemen 
are  walking  out  of  the  door." 

The  Captain  looked  at  him  seriously.  "  I  cannot 
choose  but  believe  you,  my  man.  Well — how  best  to 
tackle  this  villainy  ?  " 

He  proceeded  to  dress  leisurely,  turning  upon  the 
Corporal  at  intervals  with  a  question,  while  he  turned 
the  matter  over  in  his  mind. 

"  Corporal,  you  are  ready  to  fight  in  this  cause?" 

"  Sir,  I  ask  nothing  better.  And  I  am  a  master  in 
the  art  of  fence,  which  I  teach,  with  fortification  and 
the  forms  of  siege." 

"  Corporal,  you  can  be  silent  ?  ** 

"  Sir,  I  am  a  soldier — therefore  silent.  I  teach  the 
art  of  war,  with  the  soldier's  duties,  to  all  who  come." 

"  Corporal,  you  have  a  wife,  I  understand.  Can  she 
hold  her  tongue  ?" 

"  The  poor  creature  knows  nothing  of  this  busi- 
ness." 

"  Corporal,  you  appear  to  be  a  man  of  courage." 

"  Will  your  Honour  give  me  the  command  of  a  for- 
lorn hope?" 

"  Does  any  one  in  this  house,  or  out  of  it,  know  these 
visitors?  " 

"  I  think  not.  Sir.  Molly,  the  maid,  knows  that 
they  come.     You  and  I  are  the  only  two  who  know." 

"  Hark  ye.  Corporal.  This  is  not  an  affair  to  take  to 
Bow  Street.  It  is  one  in  which  your  loyalty  will  be 
best  shown  in  keeping  the  thing  dark.  If  it  were  to 
succeed  the  Lord  only  knows  what  would  happen.     If 


17^  A  Fountain  SeaW. 

it  were  to  fail  with  a  fight  and  half  a  dozen  killed  and 
wounded  and  the  noise  of  it  spread  over  the  whole 
world,  there  would  be  a  proper  kind  of  scandal  indeed. 
No :  the  attempt  itself  must  be  prevented.  Now, 
Corporal,  you  and  I  must  prevent  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
ladies.  Our  services  will  not  be  put  in  the  Gazette : 
there  will  be  no  promotion  for  us  :  yet  I  take  it  upon 
me  to  assure  you  that  you  shall  be  no  loser." 

The  poor  Corporal  hung  his  head.  Silence  and 
secrecy !  And  he  had  dreamed  of  a  fight :  slaughter  of 
the  conspirators  :  and  himself  the  hero  of  the  fray  ! 
And,  after  all,  silence  and  secrecy  ! 

"  I  repeat,  Corporal,  you  shall  be  no  loser.  Very 
well.  You  and  I  must  mount  guard  together  every 
night  from  the  time  these  villains  arrive  till  the  time 
they  go  away.  And  we  must  escort  these  gentlemen 
unseen  home.  Meantime,  you  are  sure  that  the  ladies 
know  nothing  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  they  do  not." 

"  Humph  !  Give  Molly,  the  maid,  this  guinea  to 
keep  her  mouth  shut.  Very  good.  Let  me  think." 
He  sat  on  the  table  again  and  buried  his  nose  in  the 
tankard,  now  empty.  Custom  connected  the  attitude 
with  the  assistance  of  thought. 

The  Corporal,  meanwhile,  pulled  out  of  his  pocket  a 
paper,  which  he  unrolled  and  smoothed  upon  the  table. 
"  It  is  a  plan.  Sir,  drawn  to  scale,  of  the  ground  floor. 
Here  is  the  Doctor's  room  :  here  the  stairs :  here  is  the 
kitchen  :  here  the  back  door,  the  garden,  and  the  gar- 
den door.  I  drew  it  this  morning  for  your  Honour's 
use," 


Molly  and  the  Corporal.  179 

"You  are  a  man  of  infinite  accomplishments,  Cor- 
poral. This  is  admirable.  Well,  I  think  a  little  sand 
in  the  lock  of  the  garden  door  will  stop  their  retreat, 
in  case  we  come  to  cold  steel,  which  I  doubt.  This, 
evening,  Corporal,  you  will  patrol  the  passage  and  the 
back  garden.  If  you  find  a  man  or  two  in  ambus- 
cade, run  him  through.  I  will  take  the  consequences 
— run  him  through." 

"  I  will,  Sir."  The  Corporal  drew  himself  up  and 
smiled  satisfaction. 

"  Have  a  candle  burning  in  the  passage  or  at  the 
bend  of  the  stairs:  have  another  in  the  kitchen. 
Don't  hide  yourself:  make  a  little  noise  to  show  that 
you  are  there.  I  will  take  the  court  and  the  front 
door.  Remember,  man,  we  want  to  prevent  them,  not 
to  draw  them  on :  we  want  to  save  certain  gentlemen 
from  a  scandal  and  certain  ladies  from  things  which 
would  be  believed  and  said  about  them." 

That  night  the  Doctor's  friends  were  assembled  : 
the  coach  was  waiting :  those  who  were  to  hide  under 
the  stairs  found  a  candle  burning  in  the  passage  and  a 
soldier  carelessly  walking  about :  the  man  on  the  coach- 
box observed  that  another,  an  officer,  was  standing 
on  the  door-steps  or  walking  backwards  and  forwards 
before  the  door  :  one  or  two  came  out  of  the  Doctor's 
room  and  observed  him.  At  about  ten  o'clock  there 
were  steps  on  the  stairs :  the  Doctor's  door  was 
opened  and  his  head  was  poked  out.  The  two  gentle- 
men came  down  :  they  stood  on  the  door-step  :  be- 
hind them  was  the  Corporal,  beside  them  was  the 
Captain.     They  walked  away  :  after  them,  at  a  little 


I  So  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

distance,  followed  the  Captain  and  the  Corporal. 
Then  the  Doctor's  friends  got  into  their  coach  and 
silently  drove  away. 

We  knew  nothing  about  this  nightly  watch,  but 
the  guard  at  Marylebone  could  not  be  passed  over.  I 
asked  Captain  Sellinger  what  it  meant.  "  We  are  not 
Princesses,"   I  said,  "  to  want  a  guard  of  honour." 

"  Nobody  more  deserves  a  guard  of  honour.  Miss 
Nancy."     He  looked  at  me  strangely  and  anxiously. 

"  But  you  seemed  to  come  after  us." 

"  Highwaymen  are  about :  foot-pads  are  hanged 
every  day  by  the  dozen  :  pickpockets,  hustlers,  ruf- 
fians, are  as  common  as  oysters.  Ladies  must  be  pro- 
tected." 

"  Thank  you.  Captain  Sellinger,"  I  replied.  "  But 
ladies  do  not  ask  for  better  protection  than  that  of  their 
own  escort.  We  have  two  very  gallant  gentlemen  for 
our  escort." 

"  Villains  abound.  London  is  full  of  dangers. 
There  can  be  no  other  reason,  Miss  Nancy,  since  you 
know  of  none." 


CHAPTER  Xm. 
A  River  Party. 

After  the  masquerade,  the  next  event  of  interest 
was  our  party  on  the  river.  It  took  place  one  evening 
early  in  October,  when  the  sun  sets  soon  after  five. 
The  weather,  however,  in  that  year  was,  for  the  season, 
open  and  mild — even  warm,  so  that  the  freshness  of 
the  air  upon  the  river  and  its  coolness  were  pleasant. 

When  our  friends  first  proposed  this  excursion,  I 
looked  forward  to  nothing  more  than  to  be  tugged  up 
the  river  by  two  pairs  of  brawny  arms,  and  to  be  re- 
galed by  the  horrid  language  of  the  rowers :  in  short, 
such  a  pleasure-party  as  may  be  seen  upon  the  river 
whenever  the  weather  is  fine.  We  should  probably, 
also,  be  splashed  with  water  during  the  voyage.  There- 
fore, I  looked  forward  to  it  with  no  great  pleasure,  ex- 
cept for  the  society  which  I  had — alas ! — already  learned 
to  desire  so  much. 

It  was  arranged  that  we  should  be  at  the  Whitehall 
Stairs,  whither  Corporal  Bates  escorted  us,  at  the  hour 
of  half-past  four.  Whitehall  Stairs,  formerly  the  stairs 
of  the  Palace,  of  which  little  now  remains,  are  not  a 
very  convenient  place  for  two  gentlewomen  to  be  kept 
waiting,  though  they  are  less  frequented  than  many 
others,   and  consequently  less  disgusting  for  ears  of 


iS2  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

delicacy.  I  wonder  if  there  will  ever  arrive  a  time 
when  the  watermen  of  London  will  learn  to  speak 
with  decency  and  to  afifirm  without  blasphemy. 

But  we  were  not  kept  waiting,  for,  true  to  time,  the 
boat  which  was  to  convey  us  came  sweeping  up  the 
river,  and  was  held  by  a  hook  to  the  long  pole  or 
mast  at  the  end  of  the  stairs.  Boat,  do  I  call  it  ?  Why, 
Queen  Cleopatra  herself,  whose  barge  is  represented  in 
one  of  my  cousin's  pictures,  never  had  so  beautiful  a 
vessel :  nor  had  Queen  Elizabeth  anything,  I  am  sure, 
half  so  fine  when  she  took  the  air  upon  the  river :  nor 
has  the  Lord  Mayor  a  finer  vessel  when  he  comes  up 
the  river  on  the  ninth  day  of  November  :  nor  has  any 
City  Company  a  more  beautiful  vessel.  It  was  a  barge 
capable  of  holding  I  know  not  how  many  people : 
within  and  without  it  was  all  carved  work,  bright  paint 
and  gilded  wood  :  most  lovely  was  she — every  boat  is 
feminine — to  look  at  as  she  lay  upon  the  water :  her 
bows  rose  up  high,  with  a  figurehead  representing  a 
maiden,  all  (apparently)  of  pure  gold  :  in  the  middle 
she  was  low,  and  she  rose  again  in  the  stern  :  she  had 
six  oars  on  each  side :  the  men  wore  a  scarlet  livery  : 
the  man  who  took  the  helm  was  also  in  scarlet  :  two 
or  three  footmen,  also  in  scarlet,  stood  about  beside 
the  steersman  :  a  cabin  or  chamber  was  constructed 
in  front  of  the  helm  :  that  is  to  say,  neither  in  the 
middle  nor  in  the  stern,  but  betw^een  the  two:  the 
roof  was  supported  by  slim  and  elegant  intertwined 
pillars  of  carved  wood  :  the  sides  were  open,  but  there 
were  velvet  curtains  to  be  drawn  if  the  air  should 
prove  cold  :  round  the  sides  were  cushioned  seats :  in 


'"   bU    HK   HANUEU    US    INTO    THE    CABIN." — Fui^e   /S} 


V 


A  River  Party.  1S3 

th.  middle  stood  a  small  table,  at  present  with  nothing 
upon  it :  in  the  bows  was  a  band  of  music,  hautboys, 
horns,  harps,  violins,  and  other  instruments. 

When  we  came  down  the  stairs  the  harpist  ran  his 
fingers  over  the  strings  and  struck  up  the  old  air, 
"  How  should  I  my  true  love  know  ?  "  This  I  received 
as  a  compliment  to  myself,  because  I  once  said  that 
a  harp  moved  me  more  than  any  other  instrument 
and  another  time  said  that  I  liked  the  tune  of  "  How 
should  I  my  true  love  know." 

"Heavens!"  murmured  my  cousin.  "Where  did 
they  get  this  splendid  barge  ?  It  is  not  one  of  the 
City  barges,  or  I  should  know  it." 

"  Welcome !  "  said  Sir  George,  stepping  on  to  the 
stairs.  "  We  have  luckily  secured  this  barge.  I  hope 
it  will  prove  comfortable."  So  he  handed  us  into  the 
cabin  and  placed  us  at  the  end,  taking  his  own  seat  on 
the  right-hand  side  by  me,  and  his  brother  sitting  op- 
posite on  the  left-hand  of  Isabel. 

And  then  they  pushed  off  the  boat,  and  the  voyage, 
which  remains  graven  upon  my  heart  to  this  day, 
began.  Oh!  that  the  happy  day  could  come  back 
again  !  Oh  !  that  one  could  not  only  remember  past 
joys  and  recall  sweet  words,  but  also  see  the  lovely 
youth  once  more,  rejoicing  in  his  manhood,  full  of 
love  and  happiness  !  But  for  the  hope  that,  somehow, 
we  cannot  imagine  in  what  way,  vanished  joys  will  be 
restored  to  us,  life  would  be  too  sad  for  endurance. 
We  should  accuse  Providence,  and  die  hopeless.  They 
pushed  off  the  boat,  I  say,  and  we  dropped  down  into 
the  open  stream.     Over  our  heads  hung  or  streamed 


184  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

out  a  long  silken  pennant :  thus  were  flags  flying  in 
the  bows  and  at  the  stern  :  the  boat  was  all  glorious 
within  and  without :  my  heart  beat  :  my  colour  came 
and  went :  my  eyes,  I  know  not  why,  filled  with  tears  : 
and  Sir  George  gazed  upon  me  fondly  and  fixedly  as 
if  he  could  never  have  enough. 

We  passed  without  accident  through  the  arches  of 
Westminster  Bridge  and  pursued  our  stately  way,  the 
oars  lifting  and  falling  without  noise,  up  the  river  be- 
yond the  houses  and  buildings  which  cease  at  Lambeth 
and  are  followed  by  low  shores  with  trees,  fields,  and 
market-gardens,  and  a  house  here  and  there. 

The  course  of  the  river  at  Westminster  is  nearly 
north  and  south  :  before  reaching  Chelsea  the  river 
bends  to  the  west :  here  we  faced  the  sun,  now  wester- 
ing rapidly :  before  us  the  river  lay  spread  out  like  a 
sheet  of  red  gold  reflecting  the  sky  above,  which  was 
truly  like  a  vision  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

"  This  is  a  dream  of  fairyland,"  said  my  cousin. 

"  I  have  seen  many  sunsets  on  the  Atlantic,"  said 
Edward  ;  "  both  sunsets  over  a  rough  sea  and  sunsets 
over  a  sea  as  smooth  as  this  river  to-night ;  and  I  have 
seen  sunsets  in  the  Mediterranean  :  but  give  me  still 
the  river  Thames." 

"  My  brother  is  happier  than  I,"  Sir  George  added. 
"  He  is  a  sailor  and  can  travel.  I  must  stay  at  home. 
Therefore  I  rejoice  to  hear  that  our  Thames  is  as 
beautiful  as  any  of  the  famous  rivers  of  foreign  lands." 

The  tide  was  flowing  and  nearly  high:  the  river 
seemed  brimming  over,  it  was  so  full :  the  water  was 
covered  with  swans  floating  about  by  twos  and  threes — ■ 


A  River  Party.  1S5 

there  were  hundreds  of  the  graceful  creatures  ;  there 
were  also  many  boats  on  the  river.  Mostly  they  con- 
tained girls  and  their  sweethearts  (one  supposes  they 
were  sweethearts)  enjoying  like  us  the  freshness  of  the 
air  and  their  own  society  :  and  there  were  many  of  the 
huge  unwieldy  barges  filled  to  the  water's  edge  with 
hay  or  with  casks  or  coals  or  iron,  working  their  way 
up  stream  with  the  tide,  the  men  on  board  tugging  at 
their  long  sweeps. 

The  scene  was  so  beautiful  that  we  sat  in  silence, 
ravished  by  the  sight.  And  all  this  time  the  harper 
played  to  us,  changing  his  tune  continually  into  some- 
thing still  more  sweet  and  beautiful.  Thus  he  played, 
"  Early  one  morning,  just  as  the  sun  was  rising," 
"  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes  " — when  Sir  George 
began  to  sing  my  song  softly — "  Begone,  dull  care," 
*'  Sweet,  if  you  love  me,"  "  The  dusky  night  rides 
down  the  sky  "  ;  and  more.  The  smaller  boats,  as  we 
swept  along,  tried  to  keep  up  with  us  for  the  delight 
of  the  music  :  but  could  not,  so  they  huzzaed  and  let 
us  go  on  our  way.  Presently  the  sun  sank,  and  before 
long  there  fell  upon  the  world  a  soft  and  sweet  twi- 
light, on  which  rose  a  moon  glorious  and  beautiful. 

"Will  the  ladies  take  their  regale  now,  brother?" 
asked  Edward. 

"  Sir,  can  you  speak  of  eating  in  such  a  scene  as 
this?"  replied  my  cousin. 

But  she  sat  up  as  if  in  readiness — while  two  of  the 
footmen  quickly  spread  the  cloth  and  laid  upon  it  the 
supper.  Truly,  the  supper  would  tempt  an  ankress,  if 
any  ankresses  yet  remain  to  mortify  their  appetites 


i86  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

and  serve  the  Lord  by  starving.  For  there  werd 
pheasants  and  grouse — the  latter  bird  brought  out  of 
Yorkshire,  we  were  told,  by  flying  post,  so  that  the 
brace  on  our  table  had  actually  been  shot  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  away,  two  days  before.  And  there  was 
fruit  of  all  kinds,  pears,  peaches,  plums,  grapes,  the 
most  costly  and  the  most  delicious  that  the  country 
can  produce. 

It  was  now  nearly  dark.  Then  a  new  surprise 
awaited  us.  For,  as  if  by  magic,  there  appeared  hang- 
ing round*the  high  bows  of  the  barge  a  kind  of  crown 
of  gleaming  lamps  of  all  colours,  and  a  footman  lit 
candles  in  our  cabin,  and  we  found  ourselves  sitting-  in 
a  blaze  of  light.  Then  the  harpist  stopped,  and  the 
horns  and  the  hautboys  began  tossing  the  music  out 
upon  the  waters,  which  tossed  it  on  to  the  shore,  and 
so  it  came  echoing  back.  If  this  world,  I  thought,  can 
be  made  so  heavenly,  what  must  Heaven  itself  be  like  ? 

"Come,"  said  our  host,  when  we  had  exclaimed  and 
applauded,  "  let  us  see  what  they  have  given  us  for 
supper.  It  will  be  found,  I  fear,  a  poor  offering  in 
return  for  your  great  kindness  in  coming." 

Their  poor  offering  was,  I  have  said,  a  most  delicate 
little  banquet.  One  wanted  nothing:  the  fresh  air, 
the  gleaming  lights,  the  music  of  the  horns,  the  com- 
pany and  conversation  of  our  entertainers,  were  as 
exhilarating  as  the  wine  and  as  staying  as  the  chicken 
and  partridge.  It  must  be  confessed  that  we  did 
justice  to  these  viands,  cheered  as  they  were  by  the 
lively  sallies  of  Edward,  and  the  graver  discourse  of 
his  brother. 


A  River  Party.  187 

Supper  finished,  the  footman  who  had  been  stand- 
ing behind  the  cabin  came  in  and  rapidly  carried  ©ff 
the  dishes,  leaving  in  their  place  a  bowl  of  punch.  He 
also  extinguished  the  candles  in  the  cabin  and  left  us 
in  the  light  produced  by  the  glass  lamps  in  the  bows. 

Beside  me  sat  Sir  George.  He  had  been  pensive 
and  even  melancholy  during  the  supper,  gazing  from 
time  to  time  upon  me  with  eyes  that  now  I  under- 
stand. Sad  is  the  lot  of  the  woman  upon  whom  those 
eyes  have  never  rested  :  eyes  full  of  tenderness,  and 
respect,  and  longing.  The  memory  of  those  eyes 
remains  with  me  to  comfort  my  lonely  age  :  "  Once," 
they  say,  "  thou  wert  fair  and  a  man  loved  thee  for 
thy  beauty  :  once  thou  wert  so  fair  that  a  man  be- 
lieved thee  to  have  all  the  virtues  that  belong  to  an 
angel :  once  wast  thou  thought  so  fair  that  a  man  wor- 
shipped thee  as  one  worships  a  wood-nymph  or  a 
goddess  of  the  heathen." 

"What  think  you  of  our  music,  fair  Nancy?"  he 
said,  bending  over  me. 

It  was  now,  I  say,  almost  dark  in  our  cabin  save  for 
the  lights  in  the  bows  :  the  rowers  lifted  and  dipped 
their  oars  noiselessly  :  the  music  was  gentle :  the  air 
was  soft :  my  heart  was  well-nigh  full  of  happiness. 
And  now  I  was  to  be  lifted  out  of  myself — yea — to 
the  seventh  heaven — with  such  joy  as  I  never  thought 
could  fill  a  human  heart. 

"The  music,"  I  replied,  "seems  to  celebrate  the 
happiness  of  this  evening.  Yet  for  a  touch  I  could 
weep.     Why  does  music  move  one  to  tears?  " 

He  laid  his  left  hand  timidly  round  my  waist :  with 


1 88  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

the  right  he  took  my  hand  and  kissed  it.  "  Sweet, 
Nancy,"  he  whispered,  "  beHeve  that  I  would  die 
rather  than  bring  a  tear  into  those  eyes.  If  the  music 
makes  thee  sad,  sweet  girl,  it  shall  cease." 

"  Nay,  but  there  are  tears  of  joy  as  well  as  of  sad- 
ness." I  tried  to  withdraw  my  hand,  but  he  held  it 
firmly.  Besides,  it  was  the  kind  of  capture  to  which 
a  woman  is  resigned  ;  and,  again,  his  words,  his  grasp, 
the  pressure  of  his  arm  upon  my  waist  all  together, 
suddenly  and  swiftly,  awakened  me  and  changed  vague 
yearnings  into  strong  love — strong  as  death — yea- 
stronger.  From  that  moment  I  was  wholly  his — all 
my  heart,  all  my  soul,  all  my  thoughts — were  his,  and 
his  alone. 

It  costs  me  no  pain  now  to  remember  these  things; 
a  few  tears  oi'  regret,  perha^:s :  but  such  regrets  con- 
sole the  season  of  age :  the  memory  of  those  days  en. 
nobles  me  :  it  makes  me  proud  and  happy  :  sometimes 
when  I  have  thought  long  over  them  I  take  down  a 
book  which,  in  spite  of  all  the  Divines  pretend,  I  find 
full  of  earthly  love.  I  mean  the  Song  of  Solomon : 
and  I  read  the  verses  concerning  my  beloved  with  that 
sense  of  experience  which  makes  me  understand  them 
all. 

"  My  tender  sweetheart!  "  he  whispered  low,  while 
the  music  drowned  his  words,  and  the  others  could 
not  see.  I  hear  that  soft,  sweet  whisper  still;  'twill 
comfort  my  dying  moments :  it  is  my  consolation 
from  day  to  day,  from  hour  to  hour,  to  remember  it. 
Oh  !  I  was  the  first  in  his  heart :  the  first.  Yes,  the 
first :  before  the  Other  came  across  the  seas :  I  was 


A  River  Party.  189 

the  first.  "  My  tender  sweetheart  I  My  most  beloved 
mistress  !  "  Then  he  drew  me  gently  to  his  bosom, 
and  laid  my  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  kissed  me  on 
the  forehead  and  on  the  cheek  and  on  the  lips,  mur- 
muring, "  Oh,  my  tender  sweetheart !  Oh,  my  most 
beloved  mistress !  "  This  was  all  he  said.  It  was  not 
so  dark  in  the  cabin  but  that  the  others  might  see 
something;  but  I  know  not  how  much  they  saw. 

How  long  did  this  declaration  last  ?  Indeed,  I  have 
no  recollection,  because  I  lost  myself.  Presently  I 
heard  his  brother's  voice. 

"George,  we  are  near  the  Stairs.     Are  you  asleep?" 

"  No,  brother.  I  have  never  been  so  wakeful,  be- 
lieve me.  Are  we  really  near  Whitehall  Stairs  again  ? 
Oh  !  let  us  turn  round  and  have  it  all  over  again  !  " 

His  brother  laughed.  "  I  wish  we  could.  But 
there  are  other  things  to  do  this  evening." 

"True — a  most  tedious  card-party  awaits  us,  Miss 
Nancy.     Alas  !  here  we  are,  and  the  evening  is  done." 

It  surprised  me  when  we  landed  at  the  stairs  to  find 
a  hnk-boy  waiting  for  us,  and  Captain  Sellinger,  quite 
sober,  with  Corporal  Bates,  in  attendance. 

"  By  your  leave.  Sir,"  said  the  Captain,  taking  off 
his  hat,  "  I  will  escort  the  ladies  home." 

"  If  you  please,  Sir."  Sir  George  seemed  to  know 
the  Captain.  He  stooped  and  kissed  my  hand  once 
more.  "  I  shall  never  forget  this  evening,"  he  whis- 
pered. "  Never,  so  long  as  I  live."  So  we  landed, 
and  the  barge  pushed  off  again  and  went  down  the 
river. 

I  was  also  greatly  surprised  to  see  on  the  stairs  Dr. 


igo  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

Mynsterchamber  and  two  or  three  gentlemen  with 
him  whom  I  knew  not.  They  whispered  to  eacli 
other  :  they  looked  at  the  barge  and  at  Captain  SeU 
linger.  When  the  barge  pushed  off  they  walked 
away. 

The  Captain  walked  home  with  us,  the  Corporal 
marching  behind. 

"  You  know  Sir  George  Le  Breton,  then?  "  I  asked. 
"  Have  you  known  him  long?" 

"  Sir  George  Le  Breton  ?  Oh  I  yes — yes  !  "  he  re- 
plied, with  a  little  confusion.  "  Oh,  yes — I  know — 
Sir  George — Sir  George  Le  Breton." 

"  Do  you  know  him  intimately  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not.  I  have  not  that  honour.  But 
of  course — I  know  him.  Not  so  well  as  you  know 
him,  Miss  Nancy." 

If  I  blushed  the  night  concealed  that  sign  of  guilt. 

"  We  find  him  and  his  brother  most  agreeable  com- 
pany. Captain  Sellinger." 

"  It  is  quite  certain  that  they  find  most  agreeable 
company  in  St.  James's  Place." 

"  They  are  young  gentlemen  of  many  virtues,  Cap- 
tain Sellinger." 

"  So  I  have  understood — especially  Sir  George. 
He  has  all  the  virtues  there  are.  It  is  his  inheritance. 
His  father  had  all  the  virtues  before  him  ;  so  has  his 
grandfather.  All  the  virtues  reside  permanently  in 
the  family." 

"  I  know  not  what  you  mean.  Captain  Sellinger. 
But  they  do  not  get  tipsy  in  the  evening." 

"  Which  is  best,  child  :  to  repent  in    the  morning 


A  River  Party.  191 

with  a  headache,  or  to  be  sorry  in  the  morning  for  an 
evening  thrown  away?  " 

By  this  time  we  were  arrived  at  our  own  door. 
"And  now,"  said  the  Captain,  "that  I  have  left  you 
in  safety  at  the  door,  I  will  go  to  the  Cocoa-Tree  and 
drink.  There  is  still  time.  Good-night,  ladies.  It  is 
indeed  a  most  wonderful  thing." 

What  was  most  wonderful  ? 

"  We  must  talk  a  little,  Nancy,"  said  Isabel,  sitting 
down. 

"  What  shall  we  talk  about  ?  " 

"  Let  me  look  in  thy  face,  Nancy.  Oh !  she  says 
'  What  shall  we  talk  about  ?  '  We  will  talk  about  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  my  dear,  if  you  wish  ;  or  about 
Dartford  Paper  Mills;  or  about  your  brother  Joseph 
of  pious  memory  ;  or,  indeed,  about  everything  except 
what  you  want  to  talk  about." 

"  Cousin,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  know  very  well.  The  cabin  was  dark, 
but  not  so  dark  but  I  could  see  one  head  bending  over 
another.  The  oars  made  a  splashing  and  the  water 
lapped  against  the  side  of  the  boat,  yet  I  heard  a 
whisper  on  the  other  side  of  the  cabin.  Nancy,  why 
was  that  head  bent  down  ?  What  did  that  whisper 
mean?" 

"  Oh  !  Cousin  " — I  threw  my  arms  round  her — "  I  am 
the  happiest,  most  joyful  woman  in  the  whole  world  ! 
He  loves  me !  "  Then  I  broke  from  her  and  ran  into 
my  own  room,  because  I  must  needs  be  alone  to  sit 
and  think. 

In  the  morning  she  asked   me  no  more  questions, 


192  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

being  always  so  kind  and  so  thoughtful  about  me; 
and  after  breakfast  I  went  out  to  walk  by  myself  in 
the  Green  Park  to  think  over  the  thing  which  had  be- 
fallen me. 

When  I  came  back  I  was  waylaid  by  the  Doctor, 
who  came  out  of  his  room  to  meet  me. 

"  I  hope,  Miss  Nancy,"  he  said,  bowing  profoundly, 
"  that  you  enjoyed  your  voyage  on  the  river  last  night. 
I  saw  the  boat  landing  you  at  Whitehall  Stairs.  With 
a  cavalier  the  river  may  be  delightful.  Without,  it 
may  provoke  a  sore  throat.  Miss  Nancy,  I  beg  once 
more  to  offer  for  your  acceptance  one  of  the  min- 
iatures " — he  drew  it  out  of  his  pocket — "  which  I 
showed  you  once  before.  It  is  a  truly  beautiful  piece 
of  work — see  !  it  is  set  with  pearls.  Believe  me,  it  is 
worthy  even  of  your  acceptance." 

I  took  it  in  my  hands.  Yes :  it  presented  a  most 
lovely  face  with  a  strange  sadness  in  the  eyes:  a  face 
having  blue  eyes  and  light  hair — like  my  own. 

"  'Tis  none  other  than  the  portrait  of  Mademoiselle 
la  Vallicre,  first  mistress  of  Louis  Quatorze  :  once  as 
good  and  beautiful  as  yourself.  She  was  dazzled  by 
the  passion  of  the  young  Prince.  She  was  the  first  love 
of  Louis.  They  say  he  never  truly  loved  any  other 
woman.  Take  it,  Miss  Nancy.  Take  it — keep  it. 
See — there  is  a  touch — turn  it  to  the  light — just  a 
touch  of  yourself.  Miss  Nancy — it  may  be  my  imagi- 
nation— in  those  eyes.  Keep  it.  She  was  a  Prince's 
first  and  only  love." 

I  had  no  suspicion  why  he  forced  this'gift  upon  me: 
not  the  least  suspicion.     But   now  I  know.     Well,  I 


A  River  Party.  i93 

took  it :  I  have  it  still  :  when  I  take  it  out  in  these 
latter  days,  when  the  past  is  so  far  off  and  I  so  changed 
and  the  whole  history  dim  except  to  me,  I  see  that 
the  Doctor  was  right.  There  is  in  the  eyes  a  touch — 
a  touch  of  sadness — a  touch  of  myself.  And  I  am 
glad  that  I  never  showed  this  miniature  to  my  lover. 
Henceforth  I  can  call  him  my  lover. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Guatd  of  Honour. 

I  NOW  return  to  the  events  which  were  not  con- 
ducted in  my  presence  ;  namely,  those  concerned  with 
the  Corporal's  discovery  and  the  Doctor's  conspiracy. 

You  may  be  sure  that  it  was  not  long  before  one  of 
the  two  brothers — the  younger — discovered  the  fact 
that  these  two  sentinels  were  posted  at  the  door  every 
night,  and  that  they  formed  a  voluntary  escort  out  of 
St.  James's  Place.  As  for  Sir  George,  this  was  a  thing 
which  he  would  not  notice.  The  presence  of  an  escort 
would  seem  to  him  natural  and  no  more  to  be  ques- 
tioned than  the  following  of  a  footman.  As  elder 
brother,  he  was  more  accustomed  to  these  attentions 
than  an  of^cer  in  the  Royal  Navy.  Besides,  he  left 
us  every  evening,  I  am  quite  sure,  with  his  Head  as 
full  as  his  Heart.  For  the  Head  said,  "She  is  only  a 
daughter  of  a  bourgeois :  of  no  family  :  of  no  connec- 
tions except  those  of  trade.  She  is  far,  far  below 
your  rank.  You  must  put  her  out  of  your  thoughts." 
And  the  Heart  said,  "Nay;  but  you  love  her:  you 
have  told  her  so  :  she  loves  you  :  to  leave  her  would 
be  the  basest  cruelty  :  arrange  some  plan,  with  your 
Head,  so  that  you  may  love  her  still."  And  always 
Conscience  whispered,  "  Remember,  George,  those  in 


The  Guard  of  Honour*  195 

high  place  must  not  set  base  examples."  With  these 
conflicts  going  on,  do  you  think  it  wonderful  that  he 
did  not  notice  certain  things? 

One  evening,  tlierefore,  the  younger  brother,  after 
allowing  George  to  enter  his  own  house,  stopped  in 
the  street  outside,  and  called  the  Captain. 

"  Hark  ye.  Sir,"  he  began  with  some  roughness,  "  I 
observe  that  in  the  exercise  of  a  zeal  which,  I  suppose, 
does  an  ofificer  of  Horse  Guards  credit,  you  have  con- 
stituted yourself  into  a  special  Guard  of  Honour  to 
my  brother  and  myself." 

Captain  Sellinger  bowed  low.  "  I  would  explain. 
Sir,"  he  began. 

"  Sir,  I  know  you  very  well  by  sight,  and  you,  I 
suppose,  know  my  brother  and  myself,  also  by  sight." 

"  I  have  that  honour,  Sir." 

"  Well,  Sir,  your  zeal,  let  me  tell  you,  is  uncalled 
for  and  meddlesome.  I  beg — I  command — that  it  be 
discontinued." 

"  When  I  have  explained.  Sir " 

"  What  ?  When  a  gentleman  wishes  to  preserve  an 
incognito :  when  he  pays  visits  which  he  does  not 
wish  to  be  proclaimed  by  beat  of  drum  :  when  he 
carries  his  own  sword,  and  is  not  afraid  to  use  it :  to 
have  his  privacy  invaded  by  a  volunteer  escort  ?  Al- 
low me  to  say,  Sir,  again,  that  it  is  meddlesome." 

"Sir,"  said  the  Captain  quietly,  "you  are  able  to 
say  what  you  please " 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  will  say  what  I  please,  and  I  will  give 
you  satisfaction  afterwards  like  any  other  man.  Why 
not  bring  your  troops  and  trot  along  beside  us  ?    They 


196  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

would  look  well  drawn  up  every  evening  in  St.  James's 
Place,  would  they  not?  Certain  ladies  of  your  ac- 
quaintance would  receive  this  delicate  attention  with 
pleasure,  no  doubt." 

"  Sir,  I  desire  nothing  but  permission  to  explain. 
Indeed,  Sir,  I  shall  show  you  the  gravest  reasons.  Be- 
lieve  me,  neither  presumption  nor  meddling.  .  .  .  But 
if  you  will  not  hear  me." 

"  Go  on,  then.  Explain  if  you  can."  He  stood  upon 
the  doorstep  leaning  against  the  pillars  of  the  porch. 
"  Explain,  then." 

"  I  will  not  take  long.  Sir.  To  begin  with,  there  is 
a  person  on  the  ground  floor  of  that  house  who,  I 
have  discovered,  is  a  rank  Jacobite,  and  possibly  a 
French  spy :  of  the  former  there  is  no  doubt." 

"  Jacobite — Jacobite."  He  threw  up  his  arms  im- 
patiently. "  What  does  it  matter,  man  ?  Are  you  so 
foolish  as  to  believe  in  that  cry  ?  Why,  Sir,  the  Young 
Pretender  is  forty  and  childless,  and  his  brother  is  in 
the  Romish  Church  !  Jacobite  !  Let  him  go  to  the 
Devil  for  a  Jacobite!  He  is  a  French  spy,  too,  is 
he?  Well — St.  James's  is  not  Portsmouth  Dockyard. 
What  is  he  to  learn  ?  What  mighty  secrets  will  he 
pick  up  ?  Have  him  to  Bow  Street  and  hang  him.  Is 
it  because  there  is  a  Jacobite  scoundrel  in  the  house 
that  you  think  fit  to  dog  my  brother's  steps  every 
night  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir.  I  said  there  was  the  gravest  rea- 
son. I  will  tell  it  in  short.  It  is  this.  Every  evening 
there  assembles  in  this  man's  lodging  on  the  ground 
floor  of  that  house  in  St.  James's  Place  a  company  of 


The  Guard  of  Honouf.  197 

half  a  dozen  :  they  are,  apparently,  the  grandsons  ot 
those  English  and  Irish  who  followed  James  into  exile  : 
they  come  and  go  without  suspicion  because  they  talk 
English  perfectly  :  they  are  over  here  in  the  desperate 
hope  of  reviving  a  lost  cause.  Meantime,  they  have 
another  matter  in  hand — which  is  the  grave  reason  of 
which  I  spoke." 

"Well,  Sir?" 

"To-morrow  night.  Sir,  you  may  remark,  if  you 
choose,  a  coach  in  waiting.  That  coach  is  driven  by 
one  of  themselves :  at  Whitehall  Stairs  there  is  wait- 
ing a  boat,  manned  by  two  of  themselves  :  down  the 
river  off  Redriff  lies  a  vessel  waiting  for  them.  The 
ship  is  called  the  Toiver  of  Brill,  of  Amsterdam  :  the 
captain  has  been  won  over  in  the  usual  way :  when  he 
has  received  certain  passengers,  who  will  be  carried 
up  the  ship's  side,  he  will  drop  down  the  river:  lie 
will  then  make  for  Calais,  and  be  taken  by  the  French, 
who  will  learn  when  they  get  into  port  the  names  of 
the  passengers." 

"The  names  of  the  passengers?  Who  are  they, 
then?" 

"  Your  brother,  Sir,  and  yourself." 

"  The  Devil  !     How  are  they  to  get  hold  of  us  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you,  Sir.  Every  evening  that  com- 
pany is  assembled  in  that  Jacobite's  room  looking  for 
an  opportunity  to  seize  you  both  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  and  carry  you  away,  prisoners,  to  France." 

"  To  seize  us — seize  my  brother  ?  To  carry  us 
away  ?     Man — this  is  some  foolish  joke." 

"  No  joke  at  all.   Sir.     It  is  plain   truth,   as  I  can 


198  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

show.  Now,  Sir,  with  this  conspiracy  before  you — 
say — was  my  interference  justified  ?  Was  I  to  lay  the 
matter  before  the  magistrates  and  cause  those  ladies 
to  give  evidence,  and " 

Edward  put  up  his  hand.  "  Captain  Sellinger,"  he 
said,  "  this  is  a  serious  business.  I  must  think  for  a 
moment." 

He  was  silent  for  some  minutes.  "  Are  you  quite 
sure  of  your  information  ?  "  he  asked.  "  From  whom 
did  it  come  to  you  ?  " 

"  From  a  Corporal  in  the  Horse  Guards — a  man  of 
education,  who  speaks  French  and  overheard  their  con- 
versation. I  can  show  you  this  evening,  Sir,  how  he 
operates.     The  coach  you  can  see  for  yourself." 

"  Then,  Captain  Sellinger,"  Edward  replied,  "  I 
thank  you."  So  he  held  out  his  hand,  which  the 
other,  bowing  low,  touched  with  his  fingers.  "  For- 
give me,  Sir,  for  my  haste.  I  am  to  blame.  I  should 
have  known  that  a  gentleman  must  have  had  his  rea- 
sons.    What  do  you  advise  ?  " 

"  With  submission,  Sir,  that  we  continue  the  nightly 
watch.  There  will  be  no  attempt,  I  am  sure,  where 
there  is  the  certainty  of  a  fight.  A  sudden  and  un- 
expected rush  of  five  or  six  upon  two  might  succeed : 
not  a  rush  provided  for  against  four  armed  men. 
These  kind  of  conspirators  are  mighty  coy  about  the 
clashing  of  steel  and  waking  the  neighbours.  They 
desire  a  noiseless  abduction,  with  gags  and  handcuffs. 
If  they  still  persist,  it  would  be  well  to  warn  them." 

"  The  business  wants  careful  handling.  We  must 
keep  the  ladies  out  of  the  affair :  we  must  keep  my 


The  Guard  of  Honour.  199 

brother  out  of  it.  No  breath  of  it  must  get  about  to 
his  detriment.  This  Corporal  of  yours — is  he  an  hon- 
est fellow  ?  " 

"  I  believe  him  to  be  so.  He  is  a  fellow  of  many 
accomplishments  and  vain.     But  honest  and  zealous." 

"  For  my  own  part  I  should  like  a  brush  with  the 
villains — you  beside  me  and  the  gallant  Corporal  dis- 
tinguishing himself  behind.  I  am  not  sure  whether 
we  can  contrive  to  keep  my  brother  in  ignorance. 
However  I  shall  try.  Above  all  things,  his  name  must 
not  appear  publicly,  and  his  person  must  not  be  put 
into  any  danger,  if  that  is  possible.  Tell  your  man, 
Captain,  to  continue  his  silence.  We  will  talk  of  this 
business  again  when  I  have  turned  it  over  in  my  mind." 

For  some  days  nothing  more  was  done ;  the  coach 
was  brought  every  evening  to  St.  James's  Place, 
where  it  waited  :  the  Doctor's  friends  came  every 
evening  to  his  lodging,  where  they  waited  :  and  every 
evening  they  were  baulked  by  the  accidental  presence 
of  Corporal  Bates  in  the  kitchen  and  about  the  pas- 
sage, whistling  and  singing  so  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt  concerning  his  presence,  while  outside  in  St. 
James's  Place  for  some  purpose  of  his  own,  doubtless 
to  meet  a  girl,  Captain  Sellinger  strolled  about  the 
Place  or  waited  in  the  doorway.  From  time  to  time 
the  Doctor  would  get  up  and  look  out,  as  if  to  ascer- 
tain the  weather :  his  door  was  kept  ajar,  so  that  any 
footsteps  could  be  heard :  regularly  at  ten  o'clock, 
when  the  two  gentlemen  came  downstairs,  the  Cor- 
poral was  standing  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  ready 
with  a  salute,  and  the  Captain  was  standing  on  the 


200  A  Fountain  Scaled* 

doorstep  ;  and  if  the  conspirators  made  a  rush  it  would 
be  met  by  these  two  defenders  first. 

What  did  the  Doctor  suspect?  I  cannot  tell.  The 
coach,  I  say,  continued  to  come  every  evening.  I 
conjecture  that  they  were  resolved  to  wait  until  an 
opportunity  should  occur,  and  that  they  thought  this 
opportunity  would  certainly  occur  before  long.  I 
conjecture,  further,  that  they  had  no  thought  of  mur- 
der, which  would  be  useless,  but  of  seizing  the  person. 
If  they  had  desired  murder  they  might  bring  six  or 
more  against  four  and  so  set  upon  them;  but  it  was 
plainly  their  interest  to  avoid  bloodshed  :  now  when 
swords  are  crossed  even  in  self-defence,  one  cannot 
say  who  will  receive  a  thrust.  Meanwhile  it  is  also 
certain,  in  my  mind,  that  they  had  no  suspicion  that 
their  purpose  was  discovered.  Else  why  this  perse- 
verance in  making  everything  ready  night  after  night  ? 
Their  very  security  showed  that  they  had  no  sus- 
picions :  for  this  security  would  have  been  impossible 
if  the  plot  had  been  known,  in  which  case  there  would 
have  been  no  delay,  but  they  would  all  have  been 
seized,  committed,  tried,  and  executed  in  the  usual 
way.  These  considerations  account  for  the  fact  that 
they  made  no  attempt  to  fly  or  to  disperse  them- 
selves. 

"You  walk  abroad  late.  Captain  Sellinger,"  said  the 
Doctor,  one  morning.  "  Last  night  I  went  forth  to 
watch  the  stars,  and  saw  you  in  the  Court :  the  night 
before,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  heard  your  footsteps." 

"  Doctor,  if  a  little  friend  sometimes  came  to  talk 
to  you  in  this  quiet  Court,  where  there  is  no  one  ex- 


The  Guard  of  Honoof.  201 

cept  a  cursed  mysterious  coach  which  waits  every 
evening  for  some  one,  would  you  like  to  be  watched  ?  " 

"Oh !  If  a  woman  is  in  the  case,  Captain — one  has 
been  young " 

"  The  nights  grow  cold.  In  a  few  days  I  fear  she 
will  come  no  longer." 

That  night  the  coach  came  not,  nor  did  the  com- 
pany gather  in  the  Doctor's  room.  Yet  soon  after 
the  coach  appeared  again,  and  the  men  came  again. 
They  had  not  lost  their  hopes  of  an  opportunity. 

On  another  occasion — "  Captain,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"  advise  me.  The  fellow  who  lives  in  the  garret- 
Corporal  Bates  by  name " 

"What  of  him,  Doctor?" 

"  A  noisy  fellow.  He  disturbs  me  in  the  evening. 
When  one  would  be  writing  or  reading,  or  perhaps 
sleeping,  he  walks  about  the  passage  whistling.  He 
goes  in  and  out  of  the  kitchen  and  drinks." 

"  He  is  not  in  my  Company,  Doctor.  I  cannot 
speak  to  him.  But  bid  Molly  the  maid  tie  a  dish- 
clout  to  his  coat-tail.     Or  make  his  wife  jealous." 

That  was  all  that  the  Doctor  and  his  friends  got  by 
their  interference.  Yet  it  showed  uneasiness.  It  is 
certain  that  they  feared  all  was  not  right. 

As  for  my  cousin  and  myself,  we  knew  nothing. 
For  my  own  part  I  lived  in  a  Fool's  Paradise,  i.  e.,  in 
the  Paradise  which  every  woman  desires  for  herself, 
the  Paradise  of  Love.  This  gallant  young  gentlemaii 
loved  me  :  so  brave  and  so  handsome  ;  so  rich  and  so 
highly  placed,  he  loved  me,  when  he  might  have 
chosen  among  the  noblest  ladies  of  the  land :  he  had 


202  A  Fountain  Seale<i» 

chosen  me  :  he  loved  me  :  he  loved  me.  While  I  sat 
with  those  words  day  and  night  ringing  in  my  brain, 
downstairs  went  on  the  plots  and  conspiracies  of  those 
villains  and  the  devotion  of  those  two,  the  Captain 
and  the  Corporal,  thwarting  and  preventing. 

The  patience,  both  of  conspirators  and  of  guard,  is 
shown  by  the  time  during  which  the  former  waited  for 
an  opportunity,  and  the  latter  continued  to  interpose 
obstacles.  Consider  the  time  that  the  watch  con- 
tinued. Yet  the  thing  was  worth  patience  and  watch- 
fulness incredible.  We  went  to  Marylebone  Gardens 
on  the  last  day  of  September  ;  the  plot  was  then  dis- 
covered and  in  the  possession  of  Captain  Sellinger. 
He  began  his  watch  and  escort  and  continued  both,  as 
you  shall  see,  for  more  than  three  weeks.  When  the 
coach  was  waiting  in  the  Place,  the  Captain  and  his 
companion  patrolled  the  open  square  and  guarded  the 
steps  and  the  stairs.  What  put  an  end  to  the  business 
you  shall  learn  in  due  course. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Palace  and  the  G)Uft. 

You  have  read  how  Sir  George  turned  the  conver- 
sation when  my  cousin  or  I  expressed  a  desire  to  see 
the  Court  and  Palace  of  St.  James's.  The  King  was 
old  :  one  must  not  annoy  the  King :  our  loyalty 
would  be  best  shown  by  not  attempting  to  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  seeing  the  Palace  :  and  so  forth.  There- 
fore we  were  greatly  surprised  when  he  offered  of  his 
own  accord  to  show  us  what  was  to  be  seen.  "  Come," 
he  said,  "  to  the  Colour  Court,  which  is  that  within 
the  gate,  at  the  Mounting  of  the  Guard,  to-morrow 
morning,  and  I  will  try  to  let  you  see  everything." 

You  may  be  sure  that  we  joyfully  accepted  the 
invitation.  For  my  own  part,  I  understood  that 
something,  I  knew  not  what,  was  intended  for  me, 
especially,  by  this  invitation,  and  I  dressed  with  some 
trepidation  yet  with  happy  expectancy.  What  he 
chose  to  do  would  be  well  done. 

The  Mounting  of  the  Guard  at  eleven  every  morn- 
ing is  a  pretty  sight  :  we  had  often  witnessed  it  from 
the  end  of  St.  James's  Street.  First  marches  the 
band  headed  by  the  drum  major,  a  very  majestic  per- 
son, over  six  feet  high  and  carrying  a  gold-headed 
stafT :  after  him  the  "  trumpets  and  shawms,"  that  is 


204  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

to  say,  men  in  cocked  hats  and  scarlet  uniforms  blow- 
ing strange  instruments  :  then  two  little  boys,  pretty 
little  fellows,  who  look  as  if  they  ought  to  be  still  in  a 
Dame's  school,  with  drums  :  then  a  great  fat  negro 
with  a  turban  carrying  the  big  drum,  and  on  either 
side  another  negro  with  cymbals  and  tambourine. 
Then  a  company  of  twenty-four  drums  and  fifes  :  then 
the  Captain  or  Colonel  with  his  sword  drawn  march- 
ing before  the  ensign  who  carried  the  colours ;  lastly, 
the  guard  of  the  day,  fellows  so  well  shaven  and  so 
finely  dressed  that  you  would  not  believe  their  daily 
work  was  that  of  the  humble,  though  useful,  coal- 
heaver. 

At  eleven  the  next  morning,  therefore,  we  repaired 
to  Colour  Court.  When  the  Guard  had  left  the 
Court  Sir  George  came  to  us  dressed  in  scarlet  with 
his  star  and  a  glittering  order  on  his  breast.  "  I  am 
here,"  he  said,  "  as  a  kind  of  oflficial :  do  not  be  sur- 
prised when  they  salute  me.  I  have  ordered  that 
none  are  to  be  admitted  except  on  the  King's  busi- 
ness while  you  are  here.  You  will  have  the  Palace  to 
yourselves,  ladies,  except  for  the  private  apartments 
of  the  King." 

So  saying,  he  led  the  way.  I  observed  that  where- 
ever  we  met  one  of  the  Palace  servants,  or  any  gen- 
tleman belonging  to  the  Court,  our  guide  was  saluted 
in  the  most  respectful  manner  possible,  everybody 
falling  back  out  of  our  way  and  bowing  low  or  salut- 
ing. 

I  forget  most  of  the  things  we  saw,  and,  indeed,  it 
does  not    greatly  matter,  because  the    importance  of 


The  Palace  and  the  Court.  205 

the  morning  lay  not  in  the  State  rooms  of  the  Palace, 
but  in  the  words  which  were  spoken  in  them. 

First  we  went  into  the  Chapel,  where  the  King 
every  year  makes  his  offering  of  gold,  frankincense, 
and  myrrh.  Here,  also,  we  learned,  the  Sovereign 
formerly  touched  for  the  King's  Evil,  working  mir- 
acles daily. 

"  If,"  said  our  guide,  "  the  King  reigns  by  Divine 
permission,  there  would  seem  nothing  ridiculous  in 
the  function  which  George  I.  discontinued." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  we  all  live  by  Divine  permission  : 
and  all  we  do  or  say  is  only  what  we  are  permitted  : 
yet  we  do  not  work  miracles." 

"  I  do  not  press  the  point,"  he  replied.  "  What 
divines  ordain  or  decide  that  do  I  accept  with  hu- 
mility. The  King  touches  no  longer,  by  the  ruling  of 
the  Church.  It  is  enough.  Let  me  show  you,  next, 
the  State  rooms." 

These  rooms  are  called  Queen  Anne's  Room,  the 
Throne  Room,  the  Armoury,  and  others  which  I 
forget.  The  rooms  were  large  and  lofty,  opening 
one  out  of  the  other:  in  one  or  two  there  were  card- 
tables  and  chairs :  all  had  thick  carpets  and  heavy 
curtains:  there  were  gilded  chairs  and  sofas:  there 
were  very  large  looking-glasses,  hanging  chandeliers, 
carved  cornices  and  chimney  pieces  with  coats-of- 
arms  and  crowns  and  initials :  among  them  those 
of  Henry  VIII.  and  Anne  Boleyn.  There  were 
also  pictures,  chiefly  portraits.  Here  were  the  two 
Princes  of  Wales  who  died  young :  Arthur,  son  of 
Henry  VII. ;  and  Henry,  son  of  James.     Here  is  Jane 


2o6  A  Foontain  Sealed* 

Seymour,  the  Duchess  of  York,  Charles  I.  in  Green- 
wich Park :  and  I  remember  a  famous  picture  of 
Adam  and  Eve  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise.  As  for 
the  rooms  themselves,  they  were  full  of  memories.  I 
looked  about  in  curiosity.  Here  Queen  Mary  died — 
in  great  misery  and  deserved :  here  King  Charles 
slept — if  he  could  sleep— on  the  night  before  his  exe- 
cution :  here  Queen  Anne  lived  and  died  :  these  rooms 
are  full  of  history  :  great  Lords  and  Ladies  fill  them 
in  the  imagination  :  here  are  held  the  grand  Levees  and 
Drawing-Rooms :  here  the  King  and  the  Court  hold 
their  great  gambling  nights  at  the  New  Year  :  here  are 
the  Court  Balls  :  here  the  foreign  Ambassadors  are  re- 
ceived and  the  Deputations  from  the  City  of  London 
and  elsewhere:  here  the  Privy  Council  assemble. 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  George,  "the  rooms  have  many 
memories.  For  my  own  part,  I  think  more  of  West- 
minster than  of  St.  James's.  A  King  in  Westminster 
Palace  was  a  King  indeed.  One  would  rather  be  Ed- 
ward the  First  than — even — George  the  Second. 
However,  I  will  now  take  you  to  a  part  of  the  Palace 
which  the  public  are  not  allowed  to  see." 

He  took  us  by  some  corridors,  empty  and  deserted, 
to  a  door  which  he  opened.  A  porter,  sitting  on  a 
chair  half  asleep,  jumped  up  and  stood  with  his  hands 
down,  ready  for  service.  "  Where  is  the  King  ? " 
asked  our  guide. 

"  His  Majesty  is  in  the  Palace  Garden,  Sir,"  the 
man  replied. 

"  We  can  walk  round,  then.  I  am  going  to  show  the 
King's  own  private  rooms.     And  first,  these  " — he  led 


The  Palace  and  the  Court.  207 

the  way — "  are  the  private  rooms  of  the  late  Queen." 
It  was  a  suite,  or  collection,  of  rooms  containing  the 
bed-chamber  with  a  great  bed  richly  hung  with  velvet 
and  gold  fringes :  the  little  bed-chamber  for  the 
Queen's  personal  attendant :  the  room  for  the  robes: 
the  dressing-room  :  and  the  withdrawing-room.  "  All 
is  kept  exactly,"  whispered  Sir  George,  "  as  the  Queen 
left  it :  the  furniture  undisturbed :  the  robes  hanging 
as  they  were.  She  was  a  great  woman,  greater  than 
the  world  will  ever  know.     Come." 

We  left  the  room  hushed  by  the  presence  of  death 
and  the  emotion  expressed  on  our  conductor's  face. 

"  You  have  spoken  with  the  late  Queen,  Sir  George  ?  " 

"Thousands  of  times.  She  was  good  enough  to — 
to — love  me." 

I  said  no  more  and  he  led  us  away. 

He  showed  us  next  the  King's  private  rooms  :  his 
bedroom  :  his  writing  and  reception-room  :  his  dining- 
room  :  and  so  forth.  Of  course,  one  knows  that  not 
even  a  King  can  eat  or  drink  more  than  a  subject  : 
nor  can  he  take  up  more  room  :  yet  one  was  perhaps 
astonished  to  observe  the  simplicity  with  which  their 
rooms  were  furnished. 

"  You  see,"  Sir  George  remarked,  smiling,  "  why  the 
public  must  not  be  admitted  to  these  rooms :  in  their 
eyes  the  King  must  always  appear  in  robes  of  State: 
if  with  a  crown  upon  his  head,  so  much  the  better:  if 
on  horseback  in  gilded  armour,  so  much  the  better  still. 
That  he  should  appear  as  a  good  old  man,  living  in 
quiet  ease  without  any  State  except  on  State  occasions, 
would  perhaps  cause  the  loss,  or,  at  least,  the  decay  of 


2o8  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

his  magnificence  as  King.  It  is  the  same  with  other 
dignities:  the  Judge  does  well  to  confine  himself  to 
the  society  of  other  Judges  :  the  Bishop  must  consort 
with  Bishops :  the  General  must  not  descend  to  the 
merchant's  company.  Authority  is  kept  up  by  dig- 
nity :  and  dignity  cannot  admit  of  familiarity  save 
among  equals.  The  world  has  not  yet  learned  to  sep- 
arate the  office  from  the  man  :  otherwise,  in  his 
moments  of  leisure,  the  King  might  walk  about  Pall 
Mall  or  watch  the  humours  of  the  Park,  seated  among 
his  people  on  a  chair." 

There  certainly  was  an  aspect  of  homeliness  not 
only  in  the  King's  own  room  but  about  the  whole 
Palace.  The  Guard  in  the  Guardroom  lounged  about : 
the  servants  sat  about  :  there  was  a  sleepy  look  in 
the  courts  and  in  the  brick  walls.  But  I  was  pleased 
to  have  seen  it  all. 

"  It  was  different,"  said  our  conductor,  "  while  the 
Queen  lived.  Then  the  discipline  of  the  service  was 
sharper  :  Guards  and  Yeomen  knew  their  duty,  and 
did  it  with  alacrity.  The  King  is  old  :  the  Queen  is 
dead  :  there  are  no  longer  the  State  balls  and  card- 
parties  and  receptions.  When  the — the  successor  ar- 
rives, he  will  have  to  restore  that  strictness  of  outward 
ceremonial  which  keeps  up  the  kingly  dignity."  He 
sighed  heavily.  "  Little  ease  hath  he  who  wears  a 
crown.  No  solitude:  no  moments  to  himself:  much 
care  and  little  ease."  He  sighed  again.  "  And  now," 
he  went  on,  "  there  is  little  more  to  show  you.  The 
King's  Library  has  been  given  to  the  British  Museum, 
where  no  doubt  it  will  prove  of  greater  use.     Reading 


The  Palace  and  the  CoutU  209 

is  not  at  present  much  cultivated  at  Courts.  What  ? 
I  said  before  that  we  who  make  history  are  not  con- 
cerned about  reading  it,  save  for  instruction  in  youth. 
Thus,  it  is  useful  for  an  English  King  to  learn  that 
Richard  the  Second  was  ill  advised  when  he  seized  on 
the  savings  of  the  merchants :  the  Stuarts  might  have 
been  reigning  still  had  not  Charles  the  Second  shut  up 
the  Exchequer  and  so  robbed  the  City  of  a  million  and  a 
half,  for  which  they  never  forgave  him.  Yet  the  King 
must  defend  his  own  prerogative  or  he  would  not  be 
King."  He  spoke  as  if  to  himself.  "  Come,"  he  said, 
"you  shall  see  the  Queen's  Library." 

The  Queen's  Library  stands  apart  from  the  Palace 
in  the  gardens  in  the  west :  it  is  a  small  building  with 
one  or  two  pictures. 

"The  Library,"  said  Sir  George,  "was  built  for 
Queen  Caroline.  She  wanted  books  of  a  lighter  kind 
than  the  old  folios,  which  have  now  been  sent  to  the 
Museum.  Her  ladies  came  here  in  her  lifetime  :  it 
has  been  of  late  neglected,  but  you  should  see  it." 

We  looked  round  at  the  books.  Some  were  on  the 
table :  some  were  on  the  floor :  some  were  lying  care- 
lessly about  the  shelves.  Sir  George  turned  to  my 
cousin.  "  You  would  like  to  look  at  the  books, 
Madam.  Walk  round  the  Library  and  see  for  your- 
self what  the  late  Queen  loved  to  read." 

Isabel  smiled  and  left  us. 

Then  Sir  George  took  my  hand  and  led  me  to  a 
chair  which  was  in  a  window  looking  over  the  garden. 

At  that  moment  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room  opened  and  there  entered  an  old  man  leaning 


2IO  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

upon  a  stick :  an  old  man  of  singular  aspect,  had  one 
met  him  in  the  street  :  he  was  followed  by  two  ser- 
vants who  stood  at  the  door  while  their  master  entered 
the  room  and  looked  round. 

"  It  is  the  King,"  said  my  lover.  "  I  must  speak 
with  him."  He  walked  down  the  room  and  knelt  on 
one  knee. 

"  George  !  "  cried  the  King,  surprised.  "  You  in  the 
Library  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir.  I  trust  your  Majesty  is  well  this  morn- 
mg. 

"  Ay — ay — well  enough.  Come  to  see  me  presently, 
when  you  have  left  your  friends."  So  he  looked  at 
me  curiously :  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  could  not 
remember  my  face,  and  went  out  again. 

"  He  comes  to  look  at  the  Library,"  said  George, 
"  because  it  was  the  Queen's.  Otherwise  he  loves  not 
reading.  But  he  loves  everything  that  belongs  to  the 
memory  of  his  wife." 

And  even  then  I  did  not  guess :  I  had  no  suspicion : 
not  the  least. 

And  now  I  understand  it  all  so  well  :  what  was  in 
his  mind  :  the  sacrifice  that  he  was  ready  to  make  :  the 
meaning  of  it  all :  how  love  had  trampled  upon  inter- 
est :  and  how  he  was  prepared  even  to  give  up  his  in- 
heritance after  himself,  to  his  brother.  He  would  give 
all — all — all — for  my  sake — mine. 

"  Be  seated,  Nancy.  Oh,  my  dear !  my  dear  !  "  He 
kissed  my  hand  regardless  of  Isabel's  presence  :  but  I 
think  she  was  among  the  books.  "  I  have  brought 
you    here,   dear,    because — because" — he   hesitated   a 


The  Palace  and  the  Court.  2 1 1 

little,  "  I  thought  to  show  you  what  should  have  been 
the  ending  of  that  story  of  Lord  Burleigh  and  his 
country  maid.  He  took  her  to  see  his  castle — his  stately 
castle.  Burleigh  House  is  a  very  noble  place  :  he 
showed  her  all  over  it :  his  Rooms  of  State,  his  Court' 
yards,  his  Halls,  his  Chapel,  his  Park  :  everything.  And 
when  she  understood  who  and  what  he  was — how  great 
his  State — he  took  her  away  again — to  her  old  home 
and  said,  *  My  dear,  it  is  not  in  that  great  gilded  place 
that  you  can  love  me  :  it  is  in  some  rustic  cottage  like 
your  own,  whither  I  can  steal  when  I  can  from  the 
cares  and  forms  of  State.'     What  say  you,  Nancy  ?" 

"  Will  your  State  be  so  very  great — as  great  as  that 
of  the  Lord  Burleigh?  " 

"  It  will  be  greater.  It  v/ill  be — something — some- 
thing like  this." 

And  even  then  I  never  guessed. 

I  gave  him  my  hand.  "Oh!"  I  whispered.  "lam 
all  yours.  Do  with  me — dispose  of  me — as  your  heart 
and  honour  please." 

Again  he  kissed  me,  but  on  the  forehead. 

"  My  honour  bade  me  show  thee  these  things, 
Nancy.  My  heart  bids  me  tie  myself  to  thee  for  life 
— so  that  none  but  the  call  of  God  shall  part  us." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
**  Invest  It  in  my  Bttsmess." 

Robert  Storey  called  again — his  last  visit  it  proved. 
He  came  the  day  after  our  voyage  up  the  river,  when 
the  words  of  my  lover  were  still  ringing  in  my  brain, 
with  the  accompaniment  of  sweet  music,  all  in  fantasy, 
as  happens  when  one  is  happy  and  hears  voices  sing- 
ing and  silver  bells  ringing,  and  melodies  hitherto 
unknown.  The  sight  of  the  man  jangled  the  bells,  and 
made  discords  instead  of  the  music.  Not  only  the  prim 
decorum  of  his  dress,  the  self-satisfaction  in  his  face 
— these  were  things  which  one  expected  in  the  worthy 
bookseller — there  was  also  visible  a  certain  purpose  in 
his  face.  Yet  I  received  him  with  an  appearance  of 
graciousness. 

"I  have  left  our  cousin,"  he  said,  "  in  the  shop. 
She  is  talking  with  a  traveller  lately  returned  from 
Siberia,  (if  his  word  can  be  taken  :  but  we  have  many 
pretended  travellers).  He  has  been  telling  her  of  the 
cannibals  who  dwell  in  that  unknown  country,  (but 
one  of  my  poets  swears  that  the  traveller  hath  been 
seen  of  late  in  Grub  Street).  He  is  to  issue  his  '  De- 
scription of  Siberia  *  by  subscription.  I  doubt  not 
that  he  will  have  our  cousin's  name  and  guinea  before 


'' Invest  it  in  my  Business/*  313 

he  leaves  her.  A  plausible  fellow  in  discourse,  and 
once  at  Sidney  Sussex  College,  Cambridge.  When  I 
left  them,  he  was  beginning  upon  the  marriage  cus- 
toms of  those  distant  islanders.  Apparently  they 
have  never  heard  of  the  English  Church."  He  shook 
his  head  sadly,  sighed,  and  asked  permission  to  sit 
down.  He  did  so,  carefully  arranging  the  correct  dis- 
position of  his  legs,  and  thrusting,  as  was  his  wont, 
one  hand  in  his  bosom. 

"  When  I  came  last,"  he  said,  "  I  allowed  myself  to 
fall  into  some  heat  of  temper  because  it  pained  me 
to  watch  the  continuance  of  an  acquaintance  which 
from  the  incompatibility  of  rank  and  station,  can 
never  become  more  than  a  passing  incident — pray 
Heaven  not  a  painful  incident ! — in  the  history  of  a 
beautiful  though  unfortunate  young  lady." 

This  was  the  introduction  or  preface  to  what  fol- 
lowed. I  hope  my  readers  are  as  well  satisfied  with  it 
as  the  author  appeared  to  be. 

"You  mean  something,  Mr.  Robert,  I  daresay." 

"  I  always  mean  something.  One  of  my  satirists 
told  me  yesterday  when  I  gave  him  three  guineas, 
that  my  words  are  of  gold,  like  the  Greek  Father 
named  Socrates,  which  means,  unless  my  Greek  is 
rusty,  he  with  the  golden  mouth.  What  I  say.  Miss 
Nancy,  is  received  by  my  friends  as  well  as  my  de- 
pendent poets,  as  something  worth  the  hearing.  The 
sayings  of  Robert  Storey,  perhaps,  will  prove  here- 
after as  worthy  of  record  as  the  '  Table  Talk '  of 
Selden,  of  which  I  have  a  share,  with  six  other  book- 
sellers." 


214  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

*' Will  you  kindly  proceed  to  your  meaning  then? 
If  Isabel  grows  tired  of  her  Siberian  she  may  return, 
and  so  you  may  lose  your  opportunity.  For,  Mr. 
Robert,  I  suppose  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone." 

"  With  your  permission.  Ahem  !  The — the — gen- 
tleman who  comes  here  nearly  every  day,  with  whom, 
you  have  been  seen  at  Marylebone  Gardens  and  on 
the  river  in  a  barge,  with  music,  is  attracted  by  a 
lovely  face.  Naturally — for  a  gentleman.  We  in 
business  do  not  consider  the  beauty  of  our  fair  cus- 
tomers. Handsome  or  ugly  makes  no  difference  in 
the  buying  of  books.  You  may  believe  me,  Miss 
Nancy,  when  I  assure  you  that  although  in  business 
hours  I  must  not  have  any  eye  for  beauty,  yet  out  of 
business  hours,  when  I  might  relax  from  this  severity, 
respect  for  my  own  reputation,  on  which  a  tradesman's 
success  greatly  depends,  would  not  allow  me  to  run 
after  a  pretty  face  if  I  wished  to  do  so." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Robert,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  are 
incapable  of  running  after  a  pretty  face." 

"  What  respect,  indeed,  should  I  receive  from  my 
poets  if  I  were  thus  to  betray  the  amorous  propensi- 
ties which  they  are  constantly  singing  and  praising?" 

"  Do  you  think,  Mr.  Robert,  that  this  subject  is  the 
most  proper  one  in  the  world  to  discuss  with  me?  " 

"  I  introduced  it,  believe  me,  for  contrast  only. 
That  I  do  not  run  after  pretty  faces  is  due  not  only 
to  my  principles,  which  would,  I  believe,  resist  Helen 
of  Troy  herself,  but  also  to  my  calling,  which  necessi- 
tates a  reputation  for  virtue.  Every  bookseller  should 
be  christened   Joseph,  even  though  his   temperament 


"Invest  it  in  my  Business/*  215 

should  incline  him  rather  to  the  character  of  Solo- 
mon." 

"  Mr.  Robert,  I  do  not  know  you  this  morning." 

"  I  mean,  then,  that  a  tradesman  of  virtue,  like  my- 
self, is  as  capable  of  the  passion  of  love  as  the  greatest 
man  in  the  country." 

"  I  hope,  Sir,  that  an  honest  love  for  a  worthy  ob- 
ject— if  there  be  any  woman  worthy  of  Mr.  Robert 
Storey — will  reward  these  present  privations." 

I  believe  that  if  you  humour  a  man  in  accordance 
with  his  vanity  you  may  say  what  you  please.  He 
took  this  remark  as  a  confession  of  admiration  and 
bowed,  smiling. 

"  There  is,  then,"  he  continued,  "this  difference  be- 
tween myself  and  a  gentleman.  While  I  am  heed- 
fully  employed  in  making  a  profit  by  getting  copy 
from  an  author  (whose  necessities  make  him  take 
what  I  offer,  while  his  unbridled  greed  makes  him 
still  dissatisfied)  a  gentleman  has  nothing  to  occupy 
his  thoughts,  and  therefore  suffers  them  to  rove  at  will. 
If  he  sees  a  pretty  girl,  he  instantly  follows  her : 
converses  with  her :  makes  love  to  her,  regardless  of 
consequences  which  will  not  injure  him.  It  is  the  way 
with  his  class — his  rank.  A  woman,  he  thinks,  is  a 
creature  made  for  love,  and  especially  for  the  love  of 
a  gentleman.  It  is  condescension  in  him  to  offer  love : 
it  is  an  honour  in  her  to  accept  love.  In  my  rank — 
the  happier  because  the  more  virtuous — we  do  not 
speak  much  of  love  before  we  tie  the  nuptial  knot. 
Then,  believe  me,  no  nobleman  could  be  more  affec- 
tionate, no  gentleman  so  constant," 


2i6  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  I  believe  that  you  are  come  again  in  order  to 
malign  certain  friends  of  mine.  Mr.  Robert,  once  for 
all,  you  need  not  continue." 

"  I  come.  Miss  Nancy,  with  a  more  important  object 
than  that.  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  this  gentle- 
man. He  comes  here  in  order  to  enjoy  your  society. 
His  behaviour,  I  am  informed,  by  your  cousin,  is  as  ad- 
mirable as  your  own  most  honourable  principles  would 
demand  :  can  I  say  more  than  that  I  believe  this  as- 
surance ?  " 

These  words  naturally  softened  me.  "  Since  you 
admit  that  he  is  a  man  of  honour,  Mr.  Robert,  I  am 
satisfied.     You  can  therefore  go  on." 

"  I  admit,  moreover,  that  he  comes  here  after  you. 
I  do  not  doubt  that  he  greatly  admires,  and  perhaps 
loves,  you.  Who  can  be  surprised  ?  Who  can  for  a 
moment  doubt?  What  I  would  ask  you,  most  ear- 
nestly. Miss  Nancy,  is  this  :  What  is  to  be  the  end  of 
it?" 

"  In  reply,  Mr.  Robert :  What  right  have  you  to  ask 
this  question  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer  this  question.  "Consider,  I  be- 
seech you,"  he  said,  "the  position  of  this  gentleman. 
Consider  only  what  it  means." 

"  Do  you  know  his  position  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  know." 

I  understand,  now,  that  he  could  not  believe  that  I 
did  not  know ;  yet  if  he  had  only  spoken  to  Isabel  he 
would  have  learned,  at  least,  that  we  did  not  know. 

"  Do  not,  I  entreat  you,"  he  added,  "  deceive  your- 
self by  the  belief  that  no  one  else  knows.     I    recog- 


*^  Invest  it  in  my  Business/'  217 

nised  them  at  the  very  first  evening,  when  I  ran  away, 
as  you  said.  Captain  Sellinger  knows ;  that  Corporal 
of  Horse  Guards  knows  ;  the  tall  lean  man  on  the 
ground-floor  knows:  he  is  said  in  my  shop  to  be  a 
Jacobite.  Sometimes  he  looks  in  to  ask  after  rare 
books.  He  was  talking  to  me  about  other  things,  and 
from  what  he  dropped,  I  am  certain  that  he  knows 
your  friends." 

Everybody  knew,  except  me.  And  I  was  not  anx- 
ious to  know.  My  lover  was  a  man  of  exalted  rank — 
an  Earl,  perhaps  :  or,  indeed,  I  knew  not,  never  hav- 
ing been  taught  to  respect  rank,  which  is  an  accident 
of  birth.  He  would  tell  me  himself,  in  his  own  good 
time. 

"So,  Miss  Nancy,  since  so  many  people  know;  and 
since  we  cannot  stop  their  tongues ;  all  the  world  will 
soon  know." 

"  Well,  Sir?  "  This  kind  of  talk  began  to  vex  me. 
"  If  a  gentleman  is  his  own  master,  why  should  he  not 
visit  whom  he  pleases?" 

"  His  own  master?  Yes.  But  for  how  long?  The 
old  man  is  now  getting  on  for  eighty.     For  how  long  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  any  old  man." 

"  Tut-tut  !  "  he  said  impatiently.  "  Consider,  I  say, 
the  position.  It  is  impossible  for  him  to  marry  you. 
It  is  perfectly  impossible — it  is  out  of  the  question — 
not  to  be  thought  of.     You  must  acknowledge  that." 

"  I  acknowledge  nothing." 

"  You  cannot  entertain  the  thought !  It  would  be 
madness !  " 

"  Mr.  Robert !  Pray  understand  once  for  all  that  I 
cannot  speak  of  these  things  to  you," 


2i8  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  If  not  marriage,  then — what?  " 

I  rose.  "  Mr.  Robert,  your  talk  on  this,  subject  is 
nauseous.  Have  done,  or  you  will  drive  me  out  of 
the  room." 

"Well,  I  have  spoken.  Pray  sit  down  again.  Miss 
Nancy.  I  will  sin  no  more,  even  for  your  sake,  in  this 
respect.  I  must  now  tell  you  that,  being  in  the  City 
yesterday,  I  came  upon  your  brother,  Mr.  Joseph,  in  a 
coffee-house.  I  told  him,  perhaps  incautiously,  that 
you  were  in  good  health  and  staying  near  the  Palace 
of  St.  James's  with  the  widow  of  my  cousin^  Reuben 
Storey.  That,  he  said,  was  with  his  consent,  but  he 
would  call  here  when  next  his  business  takes  him  to 
London." 

"  My  brother  Joseph  ?     My  brother  here  ?  " 

"Yes.  He  will  see  in  these  lodgings  a  great  deal  " 
— Robert  looked  round  the  room — "  which  he  will  dis- 
approve. He  is  still  stiff,  I  observe,  in  his  Quaker 
principles.  What  will  you  say  ?  How  will  you  defend 
your  abandonment  of  their  principles  ?  " 

I  was  silent.  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  very  exist- 
ence of  my  brother  Joseph. 

"  Joseph  is  your  guardian.  You  want,  it  is  true, 
only  a  few  days  of  coming  of  age,  when  you  can  do  as 
you  please.  He  is  trustee,  I  understand,  for  a  large 
fortune,  which  he  will  if  possible  keep  in  his  own 
hands.     Shall  you  return,  may  I  ask,  to  Dartford  ?  " 

"  Never."  I  shuddered.  At  the  very  thought  of 
Dartford  the  memory  of  the  old  melancholy  returned 
to  me.    "  Never." 

"  Well.     He  will  be  here.     You  must  tell  him  your- 


"Invest  it  in  my  Business.^  219 

self  that  you  have  changed  your  religion  and  that  you 
intend  to  become — or  have  become — a  member  of  the 
Church  of  England.  As  myself  a  humble  follower  of 
that  Church,  I  rejoice.  Joseph  will  not  rejoice.  He 
is  an  austere  man.      He  will  be  angry." 

I  looked  about  the  room.  If  we  were  to  deceive 
him  again — it  was  by  sheer  deception  that  Isabel  got 
me  into  her  custody — we  should  have  to  go  back  to 
the  old  pretences  :  we  should  change  again  our  dress : 
change  the  fashion  of  our  heads :  change  our  conver- 
sation :  take  down  all  the  pictures  from  the  walls  : 
banish  all  the  books :  send  away  the  harpsichord : 
hide  the  music  :  put  away  the  china  and  gewgaws. 
Oh !  But  we  would  not  deceive  him.  I  resolved  to 
let  my  brother  know  the  truth.  But,  alas  !  a  sinking 
of  the  heart  followed  this  disagreeable  intelligence.  I 
felt  as  if  the  pleasant  time  was  threatened. 

"As  yet,"  Robert  went  on,  "  Joseph  knows  nothing 
of  your  visitors.  I  did  not  venture  to  tell  him.  I 
know  not  what  he  will  say,  or  think,  if  he  should  learn 
the  truth." 

"  Joseph,"  I  said,  "  may  be  my  brother  and  even  my 
guardian.  But  he  is  no  longer  my  master.  Nor  shall 
he  be,  henceforth." 

"  You  are  warned,  however,  that  he  is  about  to  visit 
you.  It  may  be  to-day  :  it  may  be  to-morrow — or 
next  week.  I  know  not  how  often  his  affairs  call  him 
to  the  City  of  London." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Robert,  is  that  all  you  had  to  say  ?  You 
are,  indeed,  a  messenger  of  good  tidings." 

"  One   thing   more,  Miss   Nancy.     I  would   in  cold 


2  20  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

blood  renew  the  proposal  which  last  I  made  in  passion. 
You  are  now  in  a  perilous  position  :  your  reputation, 
if  certain  things  were  known,  would  be  more  than 
cracked  :  I  offer  to  take  you  out  of  the  meshes  which 
surround  you.  Miss  Nancy" — he  drew  out  his  hand 
from  his  bosom  and  fell  upon  his  knees — "  I  offer  you 
— myself.  I  care  nothing  for  what  may  be  said :  I 
take  you  as  you  are.  Your  fortune  will  be  put  into 
the  shop.  I  offer  you  a  good  business,  a  careful  and 
prudent  manager  of  that  business,  a  loving  and  tender 
husband,  and  a  partner  who  will  be  respected  through 
life  for  his  manners  and  for  his  probity.  He  is  also 
not  without  learning." 

"Get  up,  Sir!  Mr.  Robert,"  I  said,  nothing  moved 
by  his  earnestness — because  he  must  have  been  very 
much  in  earnest  to  offer  thus  to  repair  a  reputation 
which  he  certainly  believed  to  be  cracked.  At  the 
time  I  did  not  understand  in  this  his  insults  to  my 
good  name,  nor  his  eagerness  to  get  my  money.  "  Get 
up.  Sir  ;  dismiss  this  matter  from  your  mind  at  once." 

"Why?"  he  asked,  still  on  his  knees.  "Nothing 
stands  in  the  way,  so  far  as  the  world  and  your  brother 
know.  It  is  but  cutting  a  knot.  I  will  marry  you 
at  once,  by  license — to-morrow.  You  need  not  pain 
yourself  by  saying  farewell  to  your  illustrious  lover : 
you  will  only  have  to  leave  the  house — and  him — for 
ever.  I  will  make  people  render  an  account  of  thy 
fortune.  Consider,  my  dear  Nancy.  I  cannot  bear  to 
think  that  things  will  be  said  about  thee.  So  lovely 
— so  bewitching.  Oh  !  "  he  caught  my  hand  and  tried 
to  kiss  it.     "  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  !  "  he  mumbled. 


^^ Invest  it  in  my  Business/'  221 

"  Get  up,  I  say,  Mr,  Robert.  How  can  the  man 
make  such  a  fool  of  himself?  " 

Thus  adjured,  he  rose,  and  taking  his  handkerchief, 
brushed  off  a  little  dust  from  his  knees.  Thus  did 
prudence  govern  passion  in  the  excellent  man  of  busi- 
ness. 

"  You  will  want  a  man  of  business,"  he  added,  '*  to 
make  Joseph  disgorge  and  to  invest  your  fortune  pru- 
dently. I  will  become  that  man  of  business.  In  my 
own  calling  I  can  invest  with  safety  as  much  money  as 
I  can  lay  hands  on.  Nancy,  I  know  of  shares  in  books 
to  be  had  cheap  :  and  there  is  money  in  them  of 
which  no  one  else  knows.  Marry  me,  Nancy.  You 
shall  invest  your  money  in  my  shop.  You  shall  have 
a  chariot.  You  shall  have  a  country  house  with  a  gar- 
den— what  do  I  care  about  a  cracked  reputation?  " 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.  "  Sordid  wretch  !  "  I  cried. 
"  To  pretend  love  when  all  thy  thoughts  are  of  money  ! 
Go  !  Leave  me.  The  man — whose  shoe-latchet  thou 
art  not  worthy  to  loose — is  the  noblest,  truest,  purest 
heart  that  beats.  Go  !  Let  me  never  see  thee  or  speak 
to  thee  again!     Go!  Lest  I   .  .  .  but  go — go  !  " 

I  sank  back  into  my  chair  and  turned  my  head  from 
him. 

"I  obey,"  he  replied  hoarsely.  "I  am  a  sordid 
wretch.  Your  brother  Joseph  will  come  here  in  a  day 
or  two.  You  will  have  to  explain  a  great  deal  more — 
a  great  deal  more,  I  say — than  a  change  of  faith.  He 
shall  know  all  before  he  comes." 

So  he  left  me.  His  threats  concerned  me  little, 
because  I  hardly  knew  what  he  meant  by  a  cracked 


22  2  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

reputation — certainly  not  all  he  meant.  But  I  confess 
I  was  not  anxious  to  meet  Joseph.  I  was  willing  to 
avow  that  I  could  no  longer  remain  in  the  Society  of 
Friends :  I  could  tell  him  that  I  now  loved  and  prac- 
tised all  those  things  which,  according  to  the  illiterate 
Founder,  send  souls  in  multitudes  to  the  abode  of 
Devils — namely,  music,  painting,  dancing,  dress,  poe- 
try, books  of  the  imagination.  All  that  mattered  noth- 
ing. I  had  the  support — the  strong  arm — of  the  man 
who  loved  me ;  who  kissed  me  and  called  me  his  ten- 
der sweetheart — his  lovely  mistress — and  other  sweet 
things  which  I  cannot  write  down  even  after  these 
long  years.  I  had,  I  say,  the  support  of  this  man  for 
whose  sake  I  had  been  baptised  and  received  into  the 
Church  of  England. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 
''Let  him  Tell  me  Himself.'' 

It  was,  however,  a  week  and  more  before  Joseph 
came.  When  he  did  come,  he  found  his  sister  in  no 
mood  to  listen  to  any  reproaches  or  threats.  What 
was  the  anger  of  Joseph  compared  with  the  troubles 
and  terrors  which  at  that  moment  filled  my  heart? 

It  was,  I  well  remember,  the  24th  day  of  October — 
the  day  before  the  End.  Outside,  from  my  bedroom 
window,  I  looked  out  upon  the  Park  full  of  people, 
and  full  of  sunshine,  the  warm  yellow  sunshine  of 
autumn.  The  autumn  sun  could  not  reach  our  gar- 
den on  the  north  side  of  St.  James's  Place :  the  dwell- 
ers in  the  garrets,  on  the  other  hand,  enjoyed  all  the 
sunshine  that  falls  upon  London  and  Westminster. 
So  that  if  sunshine  can  compensate,  poverty  has  its 
compensations. 

As  was  often  the  case  in  the  morning,  I  was  alone. 
My  cousin  was  gone  by  water  to  the  City,  whither  her 
affairs  often  called  her.  The  house  was  quiet  save  for 
the  chatter  of  Mrs.  Bates  and  her  children  upstairs. 
The  window  was  open  for  the  sweetness  of  the  air ; 
yet,  because  the  night  had  been  cold,  there  was  a 
small  coal  fire  burning  in  the  grate.  I  sat  beside  the 
table,  leaning  my  head  on  my  hand,  an  open  book  of 


224  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

poetry  before  me,  some  needlework  in  my  lap,  and  my 
lover  in  my  mind.  When  a  girl  is  loved  and  also  loves 
— sad  for  one  of  these  things  to  be  found  without  the 
other  ! — I  suppose  her  lover  is  always  in  her  mind  :  she 
dreams  of  him  :  she  thinks  of  him  if  she  wakes  in  the 
.dark  hours  of  the  night  :  she  puts  his  name,  instead 
of  her  own,  into  her  prayers :  she  dresses  to  please 
him :  she  thinks  to  please  him  :  she  considers  all  day 
long  what  will  please  him.  Only  to  please  him  she 
would  be  beautiful,  she  would  be  good.  My  sisters! 
great  and  wonderful,  nay,  miraculous,  is  the  power  of 
Love,  since  it  can  even  raise  the  soul  from  lowest 
depths  to  heights  of  virtue. 

I  have  never  been  to  a  theatre,  but  I  have  read 
many  plays.  Every  play  has  a  story,  which  they  call 
a  plot :  every  play  is  divided  into  five  acts,  in  each  of 
which  something  is  done  which  carries  on  the  plot  and 
advances  it  and  increases  the  interest  and  absorption 
of  the  reader  or  the  spectator.  My  life  is  a  play — 
that  is,  a  small  portion  of  my  life.  The  Prologue  or 
Introduction  is  the  House  at  Dartford  with  the  gloomy 
Joseph.  Act  I.  is  the  First  Meeting  in  St  James's 
Place:  Act  II.  is  the  Masquerade:  Act  III.  is  the 
River:  Act  IV.  is  the  Morning  of  October  24.  The 
last  Act  is  the  Morning  of  October  25. 

There  was  a  step  on  the  stairs — a  step  I  knew  full 
well:  a  step  that  always  announced  a  cheerful  face 
and  an  affectionate  heart — yet  not  the  step  I  should 
have  wished  to  hear. 

The  door  opened,  and  Edward  stood  there  alone. 

"  Edward !  "     I  sprang  to   my  feet   with   the  cold 


**Lct  him  Tell  me  Himself/'  225 

shiver  which  heralds  coming  evil.  "  But  where  is 
George  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  this  morning."  His  face  was 
very  grave — what  had  happened  ?  "  George  does  not 
know  that  I  am  here.     Are  you  alone,  Nancy?  " 

"  My  cousin  has  gone  into  the  City  with  Molly.  I 
am  quite  alone." 

He  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door.  "  I  am 
so  far  fortunate,"  he  said.  "  May  I  sit  down  and  talk 
with  you  a  little?  " 

He  sat  down,  took  my  hand,  pressed  it — and  kissed 
it. 

"  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  you  know  that  I  love  you — I 
would  delight  in  seeing  you  happy — in  the  way  that 
you  most  desire.  Believe  this  always,  dear  girl.  I 
have  no  other  wish  for  you — the  way  you  most  desire 
— I  know  full  well  what  that  way  is." 

"  You  have  always  been  kind,  Edward,  Why 
should  I  not  believe  it  ?  You  are  my  brother — almost 
— George's  brother  will  be  mine,  will  he  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  blind,  or  deaf,  Nancy.  On  the  river, 
dark  as  the  cabin  was,  I  heard  and  saw — certain  things. 
Forgive  me  for  reminding  you.  My  dear,  it  is  very 
certain  to  me  that  George  loves  you  to  distraction, 
and  that  you — may  I  say  it  ?  " 

"  No,  Edward  ;  but  you  may  think  it." 

"  My  poor  Nancy  !  "  Again  he  took  my  hand  and 
held  it.     "  All  this  has  been  my  fault." 

"All  your  fault?  Is  it  your  fault  that  two  people 
love  each  other  and  are  happy?  " 

"  It  was  by  accident  that  we  met,  that  night,  for  the 


226  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

first  time.  George  was  greatly  excited  by  the  ad- 
venture. He  has  been  brought  up,  for  certain  reasons, 
in  seclusion,  so  that  he  has  not  been  allowed  the  lib- 
erty which  other  young  men  enjoy — he  has  not  been 
able  to  enjoy  adventures  and  dangers  such  as  other 
young  men  court " 

"  But  why  ?  " 

"For  certain  reasons,"  he  replied.  "As  for  me,  I 
am  of  very  little  importance — a  younger  son  does  not 
count.  I  could  go  and  come  as  I  pleased.  Besides,  I 
was  placed  in  the  Navy,  where  I  have  had  opportuni- 
ties of  learning  the  world.  Well  .  .  .  the  truth  is 
that  I  was  grieved  to  find  George  so  ignorant  of  peo- 
ple :  this  seemed  an  opportunity  for  him  to  observe 
certain  gentlewomen  of  tastes  and  manners  delicate, 
yet  not  belonging  to  the  great  world.  In  other  words, 
I  would  introduce  him,  through  you,  to  the  better 
class  of  those  who  work  for  their  incomes." 

"  Yes — so  you  brought  him  here — not  thinking 
what  else  might  happen." 

"If  we  were  always  thinking  of  that  we  should  do 
nothing.  I  wanted  to  get  him  outside  the  narrow 
circle — of  course  a  man  in  his  position  is  always  kept 
jn  a  narrow  circle — it  is  his  greatest  danger.  You  ob- 
served that  George  talked  at  first  as  if  he  had  been 
taught  everything." 

"  We  could  understand  that  he  was  wonderfully  ig- 
norant of  many  things — how  people  live,  for  instance." 

"  How  should  he  know  everything?  Nancy,  there 
was  also  another  point  in  which  he  was  profoundly 
ignprant — the  knowledge  of  women.    Above  all  things 


**Lct  him  Tell  me  Himself.'*  227 

a  young  man  in  his  position  ought  to  know  something 
on  that  important  subject.  What  have  I  taught 
him?  " 

"  You  brought  him  here.     He  did  the  rest  himself." 

"  Yes.  At  first  it  was  to  be  a  polite  call — just  to 
hope  the  lady  is  none  the  worse.  But  George  was 
struck :  the  simplicity  of  the  conversation — let  me  say 
it,  Nancy :  the  absence  of  flattery,  self-interest,  effort 
to  please  :  the  refinement  of  the  ladies  :  the  ease,  and 
yet  the  propriety  of  their  manners :  add  to  which,  the 
beauty  of  one  :  these  things,  which  he  had  never  met 
before,  fired  him  in  his  way.  George  is  slow  in  being 
moved  by  anything  except  by  principle.  But  when 
he  is  moved  he  is  firm — even  obstinate.  He  would 
come  again  and  again :  I  must  come  with  him  :  pres- 
ently he  would  not  keep  away  :  he  talked  about  you 
all  the  morning :  in  the  evening  he  talked  with  you  : 
after  returning  home  he  sat  among  his  mother's  friends 
as  mute  as  a  mouse,  because  he  was  thinking  about 
you." 

"  Well,  Sir — was  that  a  calamity  ?  " 

"  Nancy,  he  was  slowly,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
falling  in  love.  Yet  he  is  now  already  twenty-two 
years  of  age.  For  my  part — I  am  twenty — but — well 
— sailors  are  made  of  stufT  more  inflammable.  Yet  it 
would  be  incredible  if  it  were  not  true.  For  the  first 
time,  George  is  fully  possessed  with  the  idea  of  a 
woman.     Your  image  wholly  occupies  his  heart." 

"  Oh  !  Is  this  what  you  came  to  tell  m§  ?  Will 
this  knowledge  make  me  unhappy  ?" 

• '  No,  sweet  girl,  I  think  not.    In  thy  society  George 


228  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

hath  learned  more  than  love.  He  has  learned  to 
think  of  men  and  women  as  a  man  himself :  they  are 
no  longer  of  importance  to  him  in  regard  only  to 
their  position  and  their  rank;  he  has  learned  that 
however  high  may  be  a  man's  rank,  a  simple  woman 
with  no  rank  at  all  may  surpass  him  in  knowledge — 
yes,  Nancy,  and  in  breeding  and  in  heart.  A  dozen 
times  has  my  brother  spoken  to  such  effect  as  this. 
Whatever  happens,  Nancy,  never  will  he  forget  the 
lessons  that  he  has  learned  from  thee."  And  the 
tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

I  was  silent — foreboding  something  terrible.  He 
went  on,  his  dear  kind  face  so  full  of  trouble  that  I 
trembled  and  shivered. 

"  This  has  been  a  pleasant  time,  Nancy,  to  me,  as 
well  as  to  George.  To  me,  because  I  have  seen  that 
noble  heart  bursting  the  bonds  in  which  an  ill-judged 
seclusion  has  swathed  it.  No  one  knows  what  George 
might  have  become,  or  may  yet  become,  except  my- 
self, his  brother  and  his  playmate.  He  is  all  truth 
and  candour ;  full  of  religion ;  full  of  principle  ;  want- 
ing only  in  the  knowledge  of  men  and  women.  Dear 
Nancy,  it  has  been,  believe  me,  a  very  pleasant  time." 
Yet  now  the  tears,  already  in  his  eyes,  came  also  into 
his  voice.  "  But  it  must  stop.  The  time  has  come 
when  it  must  stop." 

"  Why  must  it  stop  ?  " 

"  It  should  have  been  stopped  long  ago.  It  is  all  my 
fault.  It  should  have  been  stopped  before — before 
George  felt  the  whole  force  of  love  and  before — before, 
Nancy,  you  yourself " 


**Lct  him  Tell  me  Himself.''  229 

"  Why  must  it  stop  ?  Oh  !  Edward,  tell  me — why- 
must  it  stop  ?  Oh !  do  you  know  what  these  words 
mean  to  me?" 

"Nancy,  has  George  told  you  nothing?  Child,  do 
you  suspect  nothing?" 

"  George  is  a  gentleman  of  noble  birth.  What  else 
is  there  to  tell  me?  " 

"  Then  he  must  tell  you  himself.  I  cannot,  I  pro- 
mised I  would  not.  Nancy,  in  a  word,  he  cannot  marry 
you.  Understand.  It  is  not  a  question  of  what  he 
would  like  or  would  choose.  He  has  no  voice  in  the 
matter.  He  cannot  marry  you.  He  must  make  an 
alliance  fitting  his  position." 

I  made  no  reply  at  first.  "  Then,"  I  said,  "  why 
does  he  swear  that  he  loves  me  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  the  truth,  Nancy — the  real  downright 
truth.  How  he  will  get  out  of  it  I  know  not.  Nay, 
for  him  I  care  little  :  many  a  man  has  to  give  up  the 
girl  he  loves — for  this  or  that  reason.  It  is — oh ! 
Nancy — it  is  not  George  that  concerns  me  so  much — 
it  is  the  girl  whom  he  must  leave  behind." 

'•  Why  do  you  tell  me  all  this  then  ?  What  do  you 
wish  me  to  do?"  I  asked,  trembling. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  want  to  put  an  end  to  a  situa- 
tion which  is  full  of  peril.  Nancy — sweetest  girl — I 
would  to  Heaven  you  were  in  love  with  me — then 
would  I  brave  the  world  and  show  the  way!  But  it  is 
my  brother.  It  will  make  him  miserable  to  end  it. 
Yet  it  must  be  ended.  It  must  be  ended."  Thus  he 
repeated  continually,  as  not  knowing  what  else  to  say. 
"  His  wife  you  cannot  be.     Nancy,  you  cannot — you 


230  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

cannot.  Believe  me,  you  cannot — you  cannot — and 
his  light  o'  love  you  cannot  be.  Never  would  George 
propose  such  a  thing.  He  loves  you  too  well,  Nancy. 
What  is  to  be  done?     Try  to  think  of  some  way  out." 

"  I  know  not — yet — Edward — if  that  is  your  name 
— perhaps  I  ought  to  call  you  Lord  something." 

"  It  is  Edward.  Call  me  Edward,  Nancy.  And 
don't  think  too  hardly  of  me  for  telling  you  the  dread- 
ful truth." 

"  Do  you  come  from  George  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  no  message  from  George." 

**  Does  he  know  that  you  are  here  ?  Does  he  know 
that  the  end  must  come  ?  " 

"  George  is  in  the  Heaven  of  accepted  lovers:  he  is 
drunk  with  love :  he  cannot  listen  to  reason :  one  can- 
not discourse  with  George  as  with  a  rational  being. 
No,  Nancy,  George  has  not  sent  me :  George  would 
not  allow  that  there  must  be  an  end  :  George  is  inca- 
pable of  acting  with  prudence.  I  have  come  myself, 
without  authority,  to  give  you  a  warning,  so  that 
you  may  be  prepared.  The  forces  against  you  are 
overwhelming.     There  must  be  an  end." 

I  waited  awhile,  thinking.  Then  I  rallied  my  poor 
shattered  spirits,  and  presently  stood  up  and  spoke 
slowly. 

"  You  have  been  so  kind  a  friend,  Edward,  that  I 
cannot  believe  you  would  seek  to  do  me  injury. 
Pray  remember,  however,  that  you  did  not  court  me 
for  George ;  he  did  his  courting  for  himself.  He 
asked  me  to  be  his.  I  am  his — I  belong  to  him.  I 
will  take  my  release  from  none  other  than  George  him- 


''Let  him  Tell  me  Himself/^  231 

self.  I  shall  do  what  he  commands  me,  not  what  you 
wish.  If  he  desires  to  marry  me  and  keep  me  in  con» 
cealment  I  shall  cheerfully  obey.  I  am  wholly  his— - 
his  servant — his  slave,  Edward " 

"  Dear  girl,  you  stab  me  with  a  knife.  What  shall 
I  say?  I  want  you  to  break  it  off  suddenly — to  go 
away  and  remain  concealed — and  so  to  break  it  off. 
Better  so — believe  me,  than  to  wait — I  know  not 
what  may  happen  at  any  moment — and  then  there 
will  be  the  full  shock — of  discovery  " — he  went  on 
talking  as  if  with  himself — "  and  no  more  possibility 
of  going  anywhere  or  doing  anything  except  under 
the  eyes  of  the  whole  world.  Oh  !  Nancy — Nancy — 
if  you  would  only  go  away  and  bring  it  to  an  end  your- 
self." 

"  I  will  not.  Nothing  shall  induce  me  to  run  away 
from  George.  He  shall  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  belong 
to  him,"    I  repeated.     "  I  belong  to  him." 

"  Then  I  waste  my  time.  Yet  I  know  that  there 
must  be  an  end,  and  that  before  long.  There  must — 
well — I  have  executed  my  task.  You  will  hate  me 
all  your  life,  Nancy." 

"  No,  Edward — you  will  all  my  life  be  as  a  brother, 
whether — oh,  my  heart  I  my  heart !" 

He  stayed  with  me  while  I  sobbed  and  wept.  He 
wept  with  me.  'Twas  the  most  tender  pitiful  soul. 
He  could  not  bear  to  see  tears  rise  to  any  woman's 
eyes :  and  I  know  that  he  regarded  me  with  a  partic- 
ular esteem  and  affection.  Else  would  he  have 
brought  his  brother  back  day  after  day? 

"  Let  things  go  on,"  he  said  at    last.     "  Let  them 


232  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

end  as  George  and  you  shall  agree.  For  me,  1 
neither  make  nor  mend  in  the  matter  henceforth. 
George  loves  you,  Nancy,  that  is  quite  certain.  How 
he  will  find  an  end,  the  Lord  knows,  not  I.  Rocks 
are  on  the  lee :  and  a  plaguey  surf :  well — let  her 
drive." 


CHAPTER  XVm. 
My  Brother  Joseph. 

He  turned  and  left  me.  That  is,  he  would  have 
left  me,  but  he  was  stopped,  because,  as  he  opened 
the  door,  he  was  met  by  the  figure  of  my  brother 
Joseph — none  other — who  stood  there  face  to  face 
with  him, 

Edward  stepped  back  with  a  bow.  "  Oh,  Sir,"  he 
said,  "  I  ask  your  pardon."  And  so  made  way  for 
him  and  would  have  passed  behind  him  but  Joseph 
banged  the  floor  with  his  great  gold-headed  stick  and 
turned  upon  him  with  the  fierceness  of  Joshua  rather 
than  the  meekness  of  Moses. 

"  Friend  !  "  he  roared — he  meant  *'  Enemy,"  if  the 
voice  has  any  meaning — "  what  does  thee  in  this  place  ? 
What  does  thee  with  my  sister?'* 

"  The  lady.  Sir,  does  me  the  honour  of  receiving  a 
visit  from  me.  If  she  is  your  sister  I  would  point  out 
that  your  question  might  be  put  more  courteously, 
even  from  one  of  your  coloured  cloth." 

"I  care  nothing,  friend,  for  thy  opinion.  Tell  me 
what  does  thee  with  my  sister  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  more,  Sir,  to  tell  you.  Miss  Nancy, 
your  brother — if  he  is  your  brother — seems  angry. 
Do  you  wish  me  to  stay?  It  seems  as  if  you  may 
need  some  protection." 


234  A  Fountain  SealecJ. 

"  Stay,  if  you  please,"  I  replied. 

I  remember  even  now  the  picture  of  these  two  and 
the  contrast  they  presented  standing  one  on  either 
side  of  the  open  door.  What  could  be  greater  than 
this  contrast  7  On  the  one  side  a  gentleman  well 
bred  and  courteous,  easy  and  assured  :  on  the  other 
my  brother,  angry  and  rude.  As  he  stood  in  the 
doorway,  dressed  in  his  stiff  Quaker  drab,  with  neither 
cufT  nor  collar,  and  with  metal  buttons  ;  on  his  head 
he  kept  his  hat  without  lace ;  his  hair  was  without 
powder,  and  just  tied  behind.  His  face  was  red  and 
threatening,  full  of  wrath,  hard  as  the  nether  mill- 
stone :  his  eyes  were  angry  :  his  brows  knit.  With  it 
all,  because  wrath  does  not  go  well  with  Quaker  tran- 
quillity, he  was  stubborn,  self-satisfied,  schismatic,  still. 
Never  was  there  seen  so  great  a  contrast  as  that  be- 
tween these  two  men.  It  made  me  ashamed  to  think 
that  I  must  call  this  ungainly  monster  my  brother. 

Robert  Storey  must  have  given  him  some  garbled 
account  of  my  life  and  of  my  friends.  Nay,  I  am 
quite  sure  that  he  must  have  decorated  the  account 
with  circumstances,  invented  for  the  occasion,  of  dis- 
honour. Otherwise,  how  to  understand  Joseph's  con- 
dition of  rage? 

He  came,  in  fact,  straight  from  Robert's  book-shop, 
and  was  resolved  to  drag  me,  willy-nilly,  by  the  hair 
of  my  head,  if  necessary,  out  of  this  Pit  of  Destruction 
— this  Lake  of  Unforgiven  Sin. 

It  was  unfortunate  for  his  purpose  that  he  arrived 
at  a  moment  when  I  was  face  to  face  with  a  danger 
far  more  terrible  than  the  wrath  of  Joseph.     His  ar- 


My  Btother  Joseph.  235 

rival  was  a  thing  that  annoyed — but  there  was  a 
greater  thing  behind  it. 

Joseph  began  by  pointing  about  the  room  :  at  the 
pictures:  at  the  books:  at  the  music  and  the  harp- 
sichord. 

I  repeat  that  the  trouble  in  which  I  was  plunged  by 
the  unexpected  disclosure — if  disclosure  it  should 
prove — of  obstacles  in  our  way  only  hardened  my 
soul  against  the  wrath  of  my  brother.  This  trouble 
was  so  great  that  the  interference  of  Joseph  and  his 
indignation  over  such  a  trifle  as  my  defection  from  the 
Society  irritated  me.  The  moment  was  certainly 
most  inopportune  for  any  remonstrance  from  him. 

"  Sister,"  he  said,  "  is  this  my  cousin's  lodging?  Or 
is  it  thine  ?  " 

"  It  is  Isabel's,  Joseph.     Do  you  like  it  ?  " 

He  pointed  with  his  stick  to  the  pictures  on  the 
wall.  "These  Allurements  of  the  Devil" — 'twas 
Diana  surprised  by  Actseon.  The  picture  represents 
nymphs  surrounding  the  goddess  in  the  water.  If  the 
Devil  has  no  stronger  Allurements  than  the  sight  of 
bare  arms  and  shoulders  the  women  are  comparatively 
safe.  "  Allurements,  I  say,  of  the  Devil.  Are  these 
the  property  of  Reuben  Storey's  widow  ?  Or  are  they 
thine  ?  " 

"  They  are  Isabel's,  Joseph.  I  wish  they  were  my 
own." 

"  Nancy,"  said  Edward,  "  I  will  with  your  permis- 
sion sit  down." 

"  If  you  please,  Edward.  My  brother  will  be  more 
angry,  I  fear,  before  he  leaves  me." 


236  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

Joseph  looked  at  him  with  displeasure  in  his  face, 
but  said  nothing. 

"  Had  these  pictures  been  thine,  sister,  I  should 
have  destroyed  them.  This  tinkling  cymbal " — he 
pointed  to  the  harpsichord — "  which  drives  sinners  to 
the  Pit  by  its  foolish  jingle,  is  this  also  my  cousin's? 
Or  is  it  thine?  " 

"  It  is  Isabel's.  Everything  in  this  room  is  hers — 
pictures,  harpsichord,  books,  music.  Prayer-books  of 
the  Church  of  England." 

"  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  There  is  treachery — 
villainy — the  Devil  hath  broken  loose." 

"  It  means  that  Isabel  has  returned  to  the  Church 
of  England,  of  which  she  was  a  member  before  her 
marriage," 

"  Robert  Storey  told  me  something.  She  has  left 
us.  And  as  for  thee,  sister  .  .  .  What  means  this — 
this  man  of  the  world  alone  with  thee?" 

"You  have  to  learn  many  things,  Joseph.  In  the 
first  place,  I  too  have  left  the  Society  of  Friends." 

He  banged  his  stick  upon  the  table. 

"Come  out  from   this  place,"  he  bawled.     "Come 

out  from  this  accursed  den "     He  added  a  great 

deal  more,  which  I  refrain  from  setting  upon  paper. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  accused  poor  Isabel  with  all 
imaginable  wickedness,  and  myself  with  quite  as  much. 
Never  could  I  believe  that  Joseph  could  possess  an 
imagination  capable  of  conceiving  such  things. 

"  I  say,  Joseph,  that  I  no  longer  belong  to  the  So- 
ciety of  Friends " 

"  Come  out,  I  say,  lest  I  drag  thee  from  the  place 


My  Brother  Joseph.  237 

by  the  hair  of  thy  head — sister  of  mine  ?     Shame  and 
disgrace  to  thy  name  !  " 

*'  Friend  Broadbrim,"  said  Edward,  stepping  forward, 
"  I  am  here  for  the  protection  of  your  sister.  Under- 
stand me  :  another  word  of  abuse  and  you  shall  descend 
the  stairs  head  first."  He  sat  down  again  quietly,  but 
his  face  looked  ready  for  mischief. 

"Go,  sister,"  said  Joseph  more  quietly,  "put  on 
again  the  garb  of  the  Friends  and  come  with  me  out 
of  the  Pit  of  Hell." 

"  Joseph,"  I  stood  up  before  him  and  close  to  him, 
face  to  face,  not  afraid.  "Look  at  me  well.  Behold 
your  sister,  transformed.  Look  at  this  dress" — 'twas 
in  pink  and  blue — "  look  at  the  dressing  of  my  head  ; 
listen  to  the  language  which  I  speak " 

"No  more,"  he  said  ;  "  put  off  these  gauds." 

"This  very  day,  Joseph" — why,  1  had  actually  for- 
gotten the  fact  till  then,  and  remembered  it  oppor- 
tunely— "  I  am  twenty-one  years  of  age.  I  am  there- 
fore my  own  mistress." 

"Thine  own  mistress?  Oh!  That  shall  be  seen. 
And  while  I  live?  Go,  I  say.  No  more  mutinous 
words.  Obey  your  guardian,  and  come.  What ! 
Must  I  drag  thee  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Edward.  "That  must  thee  not,  while  I 
am  here." 

"  Moreover,"  I  went  on,  "  I  have  been  baptised, 
and  received  into  the  Church  of  England." 

"  Go,  child  of  the  Devil.  Put  ofT,  I  say,  these  vani- 
ties." 

"  Joseph,  I  shall  never  go  back  to  the  old  house. 
Henceforth,  your  ways  and  mine  are  separate." 


238  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"'  Sir."  It  was  Edward  who  stepped  forward  once 
more,  ■"  It  behoves  not  a  man  to  interfere  between 
brother  and  sister  or  between  husband  and  wife.  Yet 
suffer  me  to  remind  you  that  if  this  young  lady  is  of 
age  you  can  have  no  more  authority  over  her." 

■"Thee  knoweth  nothing." 

"  If  any  authority,  then  claim  it  by  law.  I  am  no 
lawyer,  thank  Heaven  ;  but  this  I  believe,  that  the 
Courts  would  think  twice  before  they  suffered  a  Quaker 
to  take  forcible  possession  of  a  girl  belonging  to  the 
Established  Church." 

"  Is  this  the  friend  of  whom  Robert  Storey  spoke  to 
me — two  young  men — great  men  about  the  Court — 
the  godless  Court — men  who  come  here  constantly  to 
ensnare  and  corrupt  the  heart  of  women.  Sister,  thy 
position  is  perilous  indeed — I  knew  not  how  perilous 
until  I  came  here.  Well — I  threaten  nothing — I  call 
no  names — I  declare  no  more  of  my  mind.  Choose 
between  the  bottomless  Pit  and  the  joys  of  Heaven. 
Choose  between  your  brother  and  your — what  .^ — your 
friend  ? — your  lover  ?  " 

"  Miss  Nancy  is  of  age,"  said  Edward,  "and  will  do 
as  she  pleases." 

"  Nancy  !  Her  name  is  Hannah.  She  will  do.  Sir, 
as  I  please.  Or  she  will  have  no  money.  Thee  can 
understand,  Hannah,  that  thee  will  have  no  money." 

"  I  gather,  Sir,"  Edward  replied,  "  that  this  lady, 
your  sister,  has  been  your  ward.  Your  father — and 
hers — either  left  a  will  or  he  did  not.  If  he  did,  you 
can  have  no  control  over  her  fortune  after  she  is  of 
^ge.    If  he  left  none,  the  inheritance  must  be  divided. 


My  Brother  Joseph.  239 

Let  me  tell  you,  that  Sir,  this  affectation  of  authority 
is  foolish  :  and  this  pretence  of  power  is  ridiculous, 
Understand  also,  Sir,  that  this  lady's  friends  are  fully 
prepared  to  set  the  law  in  motion  on  her  behalf. 
Therefore  set  your  papers  in  order," 

"  Law  or  no  law,"  said  Joseph,  "  she  shall  have  no* 
money  unless  she  comes  with  me." 

"  Law  or  no  law,  Joseph,  I  will  not  come  with  you." 

Joseph  turned  to  Edward.  "  Friend,"  he  said,  "  will 
thee  listen  ?  This  obstinate  girl,  some  time  ago,  fell 
into  a  kind  of  melancholy  which  happens  often  with 
the  younger  women  of  our  Society  from  serious  con- 
templation of  their  soul  and  its  dangers.  It  is  a 
wholesome  rod  administered  to  young  blood,  which 
might  else  be  presumptuous  and  headstrong,  as  a  cor- 
rection." 

"As  a  correction,"  Edward  repeated.  "  Pray  go  on, 
Sir.  Nancy,  poor  child,  was  corrected  in  a  wholesome 
manner  peculiar  to  your  Society.  It  consists  of  per- 
suading innocent  souls  that  the  good  God  has  created 
them  for  torments.     No  doubt  most  wholesome." 

"  My  cousin,  herself  a  widow  and,  I  believed,  a 
godly  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  offered  to 
take  her  away  for  a  change  of  air.     I  let  her  go." 

"You  did  wisely,  Sir.  The  end  has  fully  justified 
your  judgment  in  letting  her  go." 

"  I  now  learn  the  deceit  that  has  been  practised 
upon  me.  She  has  been  allured  into  the  vanities  of 
the  world.  She  is  a  woman  of  the  world :  her  com- 
panions belong  to  the  world:  her  thoughts" — he 
groaned  deeply — "  are  of  the  world.     She  is  rebellious : 


240  A  Fottntain  Sealed. 

she  has  thrown  away  her  rehgion.  Friend,  blame  not 
the  righteous  wrath  of  one  who  hath  been  tricked — 
tricked — duped — wickedly  tricked — even  out  of  his 
sister's  immortal  soul."  He  groaned  bitterly,  and  for 
the  moment  I  felt  almost  sorry  for  him. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  think  that  you  exaggerate  the 
mischief." 

"  What  I  To  leave  her  one  of  the  Elect — to  find 
her  a  companion  of  the  Devil?" 

"  Nay,  Sir,  by  your  leave.  Console  yourself.  Sir. 
The  Devil,  if  Nancy  is  his  companion,  cannot  fail  to 
be  speedily  converted.  He  will  then,  perhaps,  join 
your  Society." 

"Joseph,"  I  said,  "let  me  speak.  Oh!  nothing 
that  I  can  say  will  move  your  heart  or  your  reason. 
You  are  too  far  apart  from  me.  I  cannot  reach  to 
you.  But  I  want  this  gentleman  whom  you  have  in- 
sulted to  understand  what  all  this  means." 

Joseph  grunted,  but  made  no  reply. 

"I  was  driven  mad  by  your  cruel  doctrines:  my 
cousin  pretended  to  be  still  a  Quakeress  in  order  to 
get  me  away.  I  should  have  been  a  poor  raving  mad 
woman  but  for  her  deception.  Oh !  my  mind  was 
sick  with  terror.  Edward  !  You  could  never  under- 
stand how  sick  and  miserable  I  had  become.  I  hated 
even  the  name  of  my  God,  whom  I  feared  with  a 
terror  not  to  be  told  in  words." 

"  Poor  Nancy  !  I  have  heard  of  these  things  among 
enthusiasts." 

"  Then  my  cousin  came,  and  changed  me  within 
and  without:  she  gave  me  music    and  taught  me  to 


My  Brother  Joseph.  241 

love  painting  and  singing  and  dancing.  Then,  Ed- 
ward, your  brother  led  me  into  the  fold  of  the  Church 
where  we  are  all  sheep  of  one  pasture,  with  one  Shep- 
herd who  will  lead  us  all — all — all "     But  here  I 

broke  into  tears. 

"  Calm  yourself,  Nancy,"  said  Edward.  "  Make  an 
end  of  it.     You  had  better  go,  Sir." 

Then  I  recovered,  and  finished  what  I  had  to  say. 
"  I  owe  all  this  to  the  kindest  and  best  woman  of  the 
world — to  Isabel  Storey.  As  for  returning  with  you, 
Joseph,  learn  that,  rather  than  do  so,  I  would  become 
a  scullery-maid  in  this  house.  Understand  me  clearly, 
Joseph,  I  will  never  go  back  to  the  house.  Only  to 
think  of  that  sepulchre  makes  me  tremble  and  shake. 
Now  go,  brother." 

He  growled  something  which  I  did  not  understand. 

"Come,  Joseph.  Your  authority  is  finished.  Leave 
me." 

"  If  I  go,  it  is  for  ever.  I  cast  thee  off.  None  of 
my  money  shalt  thee  have  ;  not  one  farthing." 

"  She  shall  have  her  own,  though,"  said  Edward. 

"  One  more  chance — Wilt  thee  come,  sister?" 

"One  more  reply — No,  brother!  " 

Joseph  turned  and  walked  slowlj^  down  stairs. 

I  have  never  seen  him  since  ;  and  now,  I  suppose,  I 
never  shall  see  him.  I  have  heard  that  he  married — I 
know  not  the  name  of  his  wife.  She  was,  of  course,  a 
member  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 

As  regards  Joseph's  threat  of  keeping  all  the  money 
in  his  own  hands,  Edward  was  as  good  as  his  word  ; 
for  he  sent  a  person  learned  in  the  law  who  asked  me 


242  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

a  good  many  questions,  and  then  went  to  Dartford, 
where  he  spoke  at  length  with  Joseph.  It  appeared 
that  no  will  had  been  found  on  the  death  of  my 
father,  and  that  Joseph  had  quietly  stepped  into  pos- 
session, intending  to  keep  everything  as  his  by  right : 
that,  being  undisturbed  so  long,  he  had  come  to  re- 
gard himself  as  the  rightful  owner  of  everything. 
When,  therefore,  he  learned  that  there  v/as  no  quibble 
or  pretence  that  would  save  him,  but  that  he  would 
be  compelled  to  pay  over  to  his  sister  nothing  less 
than  one  half  of  the  whole  estate,  including  the  great 
house  and  gardens:  the  furniture:  the  paper  mills, 
worth  I  know  not  how  much  every  year  :  many  houses 
and  cottages  in  Dartford  and  elsewhere  :  certain  farms 
in  Kent :  and  certain  shares  and  stocks  in  London  : 
when,  I  say,  he  understood  that  there  was  no  help  for 
it  but  that  he  must  pay  all  this  money,  he  became  like 
a  madman,  falling  into  a  kind  of  fit,  in  which  his  face 
grew  purple  and  his  neck  swelled.  They  blooded 
him,  taking  a  great  quantity.  Presently  he  recovered 
a  little,  and  moaned  and  cried  like  a  child.  "  The 
half!"  he  lamented.  "The  half!  I  cannot  and  I 
will  not.  The  half!  I  am  a  ruined  man!  The  half! 
I  will  die  first !  "  And  so  forth,  showing  very  plainly 
that,  in  spite  of  his  doctrine,  wherem  he  fancied  him- 
self another  Gamaliel,  or  even  a  Daniel,  his  mind 
dwelt  continually  upon  riches  as  the  one  thing  needful. 
In  this  way,  some  months  afterwards,  I  learned  that 
I  was  a  great  heiress  indeed.  Robert  Storey  would 
have  called  it  a  plum,  and  would  have  liked  to  em- 
bark the  whole  in  his  bookselling  business. 


My  Brother  Joseph.  243 

No  one,  I  suppose,  would  refuse  unexpected  wealth, 
but  I  wanted  little,  as  you  shall  presently  learn,  and 
the  rest  I  have  endeavoured  to  use  for  the  assistance 
of  those  less  favoured  than  myself. 

To  return.  Joseph  gone,  Edward  went  back  to  the 
discourse  which  his  arrival  interrupted. 

"  Edward,"  I  said,  "  do  not  forget  what  I  said. 
Suffer  George  to  tell  me  himself.  Whatever  he  bids 
me  to  do — that  will  I  do.  But  he — and  he  alone — 
must  tell  me  that  we  must  part.  Not  from  your  lips 
will  I  have  it— though  I  think  you  love  me  too." 

"  God  knows,  Nancy  !  "  he  murmured. 

"  Let  George  tell  me  himself.  He  will  come  this 
evening.  I  will  ask  my  cousin  to  stay  in  her  own 
room.  Leave  us  alone.  George  shall  tell  me  what 
he  pleases:  and  I  will  do — whatever  he  commands." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  '^  Tower  of  BriU.*' 

Leave  the  love-sick  girl.  She  is  best  alone.  Come 
now  to  things  of  greater  importance — to  traitors  and 
the  clash  of  arms. 

When  Edward  left  me  he  did  not  go  down  the 
stairs  but  climbed  up  as  far  as  Captain  Sellinger's 
room. 

The  Captain,  who  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  sprang  to 
his  feet  in  some  confusion  when  he  recognised  his 
visitor. 

"Sir,"  he  cried.  "This  surprise — this  honour." 
He  offered  a  chair,  but  his  visitor  remained  standing. 

"  I  have  been  paying  a  morning  call  upon  your  fair 
neighbours,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  disturb  yourself,  Sir. 
Nay,  I  entreat :  shirt-sleeves  will  not  hinder  discourse. 
Now,  Sir,"  he  sat  down  on  the  table.     "  Let  us  talk." 

"  At  your  convenience.  Sir." 

"  Well,  then,  I  came  here,  Captain  Sellinger,  to 
confer  with  you  about  this  plaguey  business — of  which 
you  know." 

The  Captain  bowed. 

"  Night  after  night  the  coach  waits  in  the  court, 
and  I  hear  the  voices  of  the  fellows  below.  Where  is 
it  going  to  end  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Sir,  I  know  not." 


The  "Tower  of  BrilL^  245 

"  Will  they  never  grow  tired  of  watching  for  the 
opportunity  that  never  comes?" 

"  We  are  not  tired  of  defeating  their  intentions, 
Sir." 

*'  I  believe  you  are  not.  Some  time  or  other  it  will 
be  my  duty  to  acquaint  my  brother  with  the  whole 
business.  But  it  is  I  who  am  tired  of  it.  Let  me  tell 
you,  Captain  Sellinger,  that  I  am  heartily  sick  of  the 
whole  business.  Let  me  tell  you  that  to  sneak  down- 
stairs and  out  of  St.  James's  Place  under  convoy — 
even  the  convoy  of  the  Horse  Guards — sticks.  It 
sticks  in  the  gullet.  And  all  for  half-a-dozen  damned 
Jacobites  !  " 

"  And  yet,  Sir,  with  submission " 

"  Oh,  I  know — I  know,"  he  replied  impatiently, 
"  My  brother's  person  must  not  be  exposed  to  any 
danger.  And  his  reputation  must  be  kept  clear  from 
calumny.  Concerning  the  young  lady  below,  there 
should  be  no  scandal — no  scandal  at  all,  I  repeat,  Sir." 
He  fixed  his  eyes  earnestly  on  Captain  Sellinger. 

"There  is  none,  I  believe,  Sir." 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  have  considered  the  case,  and  I  think 
I  have  found  a  way  by  which  my  brother  will  be  safe- 
guarded — name  and  fame  and  life  and  limb.  But  I 
shall  want  your  help,  and  that  of  your  fellow  the  Cor. 
poral." 

"  You  shall  have  both,  Sir." 

"  And  your  silence,  drunk  or  sober,  until  the  thing 
is  done." 

"Sir,  I  am  never  drunk  till  your  illustrious  brother 
is  safe." 


246  A  Foontain  Sealed. 

"Ay — ay.  We  don't  drink  on  board  as  you  drink 
ashore,  otherwise  we  should  be  on  the  rocks  or  among 
the  breakers  very  speedily.  But  of  course  there  are 
some  .  .  .  Captain  Sellinger,  there  is  a  kind  of  man 
who,  when  the  drink  is  in  him,  babbles  like  a  running 
brook,  the  louder  and  the  more  foolish  the  more  he 
drinks.  And  there  is  another  kind  of  man  whose 
lips  are  sealed  like  wax,  the  tighter  with  every  glass. 

To  which  kind,  Captain "     He  did  not  finish  the 

question. 

"  To  the  latter  kind,  Sir.  But,  indeed,  if  you  doubt, 
I  will  undertake  to  drink  nothing — a  bottle  or  so,  no 
more — at  a  sitting  until  this  business  is  despatched. 
As  for  being  tired,  Sir,  let  me  entreat  you  not  to  think 
of  it.  They  must  grow  weary  of  the  nightly  watch- 
ing with  the  nightly  bafifling  :  they  must  understand, 
by  this  time,  that  their  designs  are  suspected  ;  they 
will  get  tired  of  bribing  the  Dutch  skipper ;  besides, 
the  nights  grow  cold  ;  we  shall  soon  have  frost  and 
snow." 

"  It  is  not  certain  that  they  will  grow  tired." 

"  The  ladies  might  change  their  lodging  for  some 
place  unknown." 

"  Yes  :  but  I  want  to  give  the  fellows  a  lesson,  and 
as  sharp  as  you  please." 

"  I  am  pleased.  Sir,  with  what  pleases  you." 

"  As  for  the  termination  of  the  business,  that.  Cap- 
tain Sellinger,  I  frankly  tell  you,  lies  with  my  brother, 
not  with  me." 

Captain  Sellinger  bowed. 

"  But  the  termination  of  this  watching  and  waiting 


The  ''Tower  of  BrilL^  247 

I  will  end  as  soon  as  I  can — and  I  say  that  I  have 
found  a  way  in  which  we  may  end  it  without  my 
brother's  name  being  so  much  as  mentioned  or  sus- 
pected." 

"  If,  Sir,  I  might  be  trusted " 

"  You  shall  be  trusted.  Hang  it,  Captain,  I  have 
climbed  this  steep  stair  of  yours  with  no  other  object 
than  to  trust  you.  There  will,  perhaps,  be  a  little 
fighting.     There  are  six  of  them,  you  say." 

"  One  for  the  coach  :  five  for  the  seizure,  without 
counting  the  old  man,  the  Doctor." 

"  Good !  We  are  three.  Well,  this  is  my  plan. 
The  Corporal  will  get  into  hiding  on  the  evening  of 
action  :  under  the  stairs  :  in  the  kitchen  :  there  will 
be  a  light  on  the  wall  in  the  passage — there  is  a  sconce, 
I  believe.  You  will  remain  quiet  upstairs  in  your  own 
room.  At  half-past  nine  o'clock  you  will  come  down 
and  knock  at  Mrs.  Storey's  door.  I  will  come  out : 
we  two  will  descend  the  stairs  as  noisily  as  we  can  : 
this  will  be  a  signal  for  the  Corporal  to  hold  himself 
in  readiness.  Your  Jacobites  will  think  it  is  my 
brother  coming  downstairs  with  me.  Out  they  come : 
out  flies  the  steel,  and  to  it  hammer  and  tongs. 
What  do  you  think  of  that.  Captain  Sellinger?" 

"Why,  Sir,  except  for  the  danger  to  yourself " 

"Never  fear,  man;  the  danger  to  me  is  nothing: 
my  brother's  name  must  not  be  mentioned,  and  those 
fellows  must  be  scattered.  Do  you  agree  to  this  plan  } 
Can  you  think  of  a  better?  " 

"  Sir,  I  believe  it  is  excellent.  I  will  answer  for  the 
Corporal  when  you  choose  to  give  the  word." 


248  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

"  Why,  Captain,  I  love  not  to  think  of  your  suffering 
privation  in  our  cause.  We  will  strike  the  blow  to- 
night— this  very  night — and  you  shall  go  back  to 
your  bottle  released  from  your  self-imposed  penance." 

"  To-night,  Sir.     By  all  means." 

So  it  was  decided.  The  Captain  looked  after  the 
simple  arrangements:  one  candle  on  the  landing:  an- 
other in  the  passage :  the  Corporal  in  the  kitchen  with 
the  door  locked  :  they  allowed  Molly  to  sit  there  as 
well,  on  the  condition  that  she  was  not  to  be  told 
before  the  evening  what  was  intended.  At  half-past 
nine,  when  the  two  gentlemen  came  downstairs,  the 
Corporal  was  to  step  out  quickly,  armed  and  ready 
for  the  fray. 

At  half-past  eight  our  friends  arrived.  Isabel  re- 
mained in  her  room,  at  my  request,  pretending  a  head- 
ache. I  received  the  two  brothers.  George  was  agi- 
tated :  he  sat  down  to  play,  but  rose  again  :  he  sat 
beside  me  and  talked  about  things  indifferent.  Ed- 
ward, anxious  for  the  time  to  pass,  walked  about  the 
room  and  looked  at  the  clock.  We  were  all  three  full 
of  disquiet. 

Upstairs,  the  Captain  sat  at  his  window  watching. 
In  the  court  below  the  coach  was  standing:  two  men 
stood  at  the  horses'  heads :  that  was  satisfactory. 
The  Captain  shut  his  window  and  waited  in  the 
dark. 

Downstairs  the  Corporal,  in  his  hiding-place,  removed 
the  bricks  and  listened  to  the  conversation  m  the 
Doctor's  room.  They  were  talking  about  desisting 
from  the  attempt :  it  was  disheartening  to  find  them- 


The  ^^  Tower  of  Brill.^  249 

selves  baffled  every  evening  :  their  purpose  must  have 
been  discovered  and  guarded  against,  and  so  forth. 
The  Doctor,  on  the  other  hand,  earnestly  entreated 
them  to  persevere  a  few  nights  more ;  this  nightly 
guard  simply  showed  that  Captain  Sellinger  had  re- 
cognized the  visitors,  and  that  he  made  it  his  business 
sometimes  to  let  them  understand  the  fact  :  accident 
any  night  might  place  in  their  hands  these  two  gentle- 
men, unarmed,  without  the  power  of  resistance  :  then, 
what  a  splendid  prize  to  carry  across  the  Channel ! 

He  then  went  out  to  look  about  him,  to  reconnoitre, 
as  the  soldiers  call  it.  He  walked  up  and  down  St. 
James's  Place  ;  neither  Captain  nor  Corporal  was  there  : 
he  went  out  into  St.  James's  Street,  but  could  see 
neither  of  them :  he  looked  in  the  back  garden :  no 
one  was  there,  and  the  door  was  bolted :  he  tried  the 
kitchen  door;  it  was  locked. 

"Who's  there?"  cried  Molly.  "I'm  not  going  to 
have  no  one  in  my  kitchen." 

"  Where's  the  Corporal,  Molly?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     He's  gone  out." 

"  I  would  speak  with  the  Captain,  Molly.  Have 
you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  He's  gone  out  too,"  said  Molly,  the  shameless. 

So  the  Doctor  returned  to  his  own  room  and  re- 
ported with  great  contentment  of  mind  what  he  had 
seen  and  heard.  Both  guards — if  they  were  guards — 
gone  out :  the  job  was  easy  :  before  their  prisoners  had 
found  room  or  time  to  draw  their  swords,  they  would 
be  seized  and  pinioned  and  gagged.  A  dark  and 
cloudy  night,    too ;    a   threatening   of   rain :    nothing 


250  A  Fountain  SealecJ. 

could  be  more  convenient  for  this  great  and  holy  pur- 
pose of  theirs. 

With  the  Doctor  this  evening  were  four  men.  One 
of  them,  a  great  fat  fellow  of  six  feet  or  more,  the 
Corporal  took  to  be  the  Skipper  of  the  ship  engaged  to 
carry  the  prisoners — namely,  the  Tozucr  of  Brill — be- 
cause he  was  dressed  somewhat  like  a  sailor  and  be- 
cause he  talked  execrable  French. 

"  You  have  hired  me,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
will  fight  for  you  and  carry  off  your  prisoners  for  you. 
But  I  think  we  shall  come  badly  out  of  this  business. 
Every  night  we  have  been  watched  and  baffled.  Do 
you  think  that  knowing  we  are  here  and  the  object  of 
our  attempt  is  there  " — he  pointed  up  stairs — "  that 
they  will  ever  suffer  those  two  persons  to  be  without 
a  guard  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  sign  of  any  guard,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  There  must  be  a  guard.  Gentlemen,  you  are,  no 
doubt,  prepared  for  the  worst.  After  dangling  for  a 
minute  or  two,  they  will  cut  us  down  and  strip  us  and 
prick  out  the  place  where  the  knife  is  to  go.  We  shall 
look  very  pretty,  all  of  us.  However,  you  have  hired 
me — I  am  your  servant." 

The  others  sat  in  patience  and  silence :  they  were 
gentlemen  of  English  descent,  born  in  France.  Mostly 
they  were  pale  of  countenance,  for  the  audacity  of  the 
enterprise  was  such  that  it  moved  the  heart  even  of  a 
Jacobite. 

At  a  quarter  past  nine  the  Corporal  left  off  listening 
and  watching  and  replaced  his  bricks. 

**  A  few  minutes  more,  Molly,"  he  said,  "and  I  am 


I    COULD    FKOTKLT    THEM    AGAUNST    FIFTY. "— /"^^f    2^1. 


The  ''Tower  of  Brill.^  251 

at  last  Fortune's  Favourite.  I  may  now  speak  openly, 
because  there  is  no  fear  of  your  tongue." 

"  I  am  no  talker,  Corporal." 

"  Thou  art  as  discreet  a  woman  as  lives,  Molly.  In 
a  few  minutes,  therefore,  let  me  tell  thee  that  I  shall 
win  my  commission  in  the  noblest  way  possible,  or  I 
shall  have  left  my  wife — poor  disconsolate  wretch  ! — to 
the  gratitude  of  my  country,  while  I  myself  shall  be 
sitting  on  a  golden  stool  or  throne  playing  the  harp." 

"  God  forbid,  Corporal  !  " 

**  God  forbid,  indeed,  Molly  !  I  confess,  that  at  pre- 
sent, at  the  early  age  of  twenty-eight,  I  prefer  the 
King's  commission  if  I  could  get  it,  even  to  the  celes- 
tial harp.  A  single  jug  of  small  ale,  Molly.  Thank 
you.  Learn,  my  girl,  that  the  object  of  the  bloody 
villains  in  the  other  room  is  to  secure  the  persons  of 
the  two  gentlemen  now  sitting  with  Madam  and  Miss 
Nancy  overhead— to  secure  their  persons,  Molly,  and 
to  take  them  prisoners  across  the  seas.  To  their  own 
poor  beggarly  country." 

"What  for?"  asked  Molly. 

"  That  I  will  tell  thee  on  another  occasion.  I  must 
now  make  ready  for  the  fray.  Ha  !  my  time  has 
come."  He  loosed  his  sword  in  its  scabbard.  "Ha! 
my  wrist  is  firm  :  my  eye  is  steady.  'Tis  the  day  of 
Fortune — wish  me  luck,  Molly.  It  is  my  happy 
chance  to  protect  those  two  gentlemen.  I  could  pro- 
tect them  against  fifty.  Ha  !  "  he  made  as  if  he  was 
thrusting.  "  Ha  !  I  had  you  there.  Come  on  !  Come 
on  !     Come  all  !  " 

So  he  vaunted,  in  his  braggart  way ;  yet  it  was  a 


252  A  Foantain  Seale<^. 

brave  heart  and  ready  to  face  death  in  the  cause  of 
loyalty.  And  the  moments  passed  all  too  slowly  for 
his  impatient  spirit.  "  Not  half-past  nine  yet  ?  "  look- 
ing at  his  watch.  "  Molly,  time  crawls  for  the  hero 
who  would  still  stand  sword  in  hand.  Ha  !  I  had  you 
there !  " 

At  last  the  expected  steps  were  heard  upon  the 
stairs,  and  the  welcome  signal — the  three  knocks. 
The  Corporal  drew  his  sword  and  stepped  out  into  the 
passage  dimly  lit  by  the  candle  in  the  sconces. 

The  two  coming  down  on  the  stairs  were  close  to 
the  bottom  :  there  was  a  little  more  light  upon  the 
stairs  from  a  candle  higher  up  at  the  landing:  the 
Corporal  saw  the  glimmer  of  their  swords,  which  were 
drawn.  He  stood  waiting  for  one  moment  only. 
Then  the  Doctor's  door  was  thrown  open  and  the  four 
men  rushed  out.  They  were  unarmed :  they  trusted 
to  the  suddenness  of  the  attack. 

"  Ha  !  "  cried  the  Corporal.  "  Have  at  you  !  "  and 
sprang  upon  them.  It  was  the  big  sailor  who  led  the 
party,  I  suppose  on  account  of  his  weight.  He  threw 
himself  forward  but  met,  I  know  not  in  what  part  of 
him,  the  Corporal's  sword.  Whether  he  was  killed  or 
whether  it  was  but  a  blood-letting  will  never  be  known, 
for  he  fell  with  a  deep  groan  and  moved  no  more. 
All  this  that  takes  time  to  relate  passed  in  a  moment. 
The  other  three  recoiled  and  drew  their  swords.  Cap- 
tain Sellinger  pushed  aside  his  companion,  and  stood 
astride  the  fallen  man  sword  in  hand.  Beside  him 
stood  the  Corporal,  lunging  and  parrying  and  crying 
all  the   time  like  a  fencing-master.     "Ha!  ha!  ha!" 


The  "Tower  of  Brill.^  253 

We  heard  it  upstairs,  and  could  not  understand  what 
had  happened,  the  last  thing  in  our  minds  being  a 
fight.  Yet  these  were  the  words:  "Ha!  Come  on 
then!  Ha!  Take  your  bellyful,  then.  Ha!  ha!" 
stamping  with  heel  as  if  at  a  fencing-school. 

"  It  is  your  friend  the  Corporal,"  said  George  up- 
stairs. "  He  is  giving  somebody  a  lesson.  A  strange 
time  and  a  strange  place  !  By  candle-light,  in  a  narrow 
passage !  " 

He  was,  indeed,  giving  a  lesson,  but  not  the  kind  of 
lesson  that  we  thought. 

Then  the  old  Doctor  snatched  up  two  candles  that 
stood  upon  the  table  and  brought  them  to  the  door, 
throwing  their  light  upon  the  scene  of  battle.  I  say 
that  these  things,  as  told  to  me  by  the  Captain,  lasted 
not  a  moment.  And  I  say,  further,  that  the  end  would 
have  been  the  death  of  some  besides  the  fat  Dutch 
skipper,  who  perhaps  was  only  wounded,  had  it  not 
been  for  an  unexpected  blow,  quite  contrary  to  the 
recognised  principles  of  polite  warfare.  One  must 
admit  that  the  decisive  blow  in  this  battle  was 
delivered  by  a  woman — none  other  than  Molly. 

When  she  saw  the  Corporal  rush  out  of  the  kitchen, 
sword  in  hand,  she  ran  after  him  :  she  saw  him  with 
that  swift  lunge  despatch  one  of  the  assailants — the 
biggest  and  the  strongest.  She  neither  shrieked  nor 
swooned  nor  wrung  her  hands  :  she  acted  much  more 
sensibly  :  she  ran  back  to  her  kitchen :  you  think,  to 
weep  and  wring  her  hands?  Not  at  all.  Molly  was 
a  quick  woman  :  quick  to  see  and  to  act :  she  was  also 
as  strong  a  woman   as  you  will   meet  on   a  summer's 


254  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

day:  strong  and  strapping  and  brave.  She  remem- 
bered— 'twas  a  kind  of  inspiration  if  we  may  venture 
to  think  so — yet  why  not,  considering  the  magnitude 
of  the  danger  and  the  audacity  of  the  assailants  ?  Yes, 
I  needs  must  think  it  was  by  a  kind  of  inspiration — 
she  remembered  the  great  black  pot  hanging  over  the 
fire,  and  filled  with  boiling  beef  broth :  she  quickly 
lifted  it  off  the  chain  :  she  carried  it  out  in  her  strong 
arms,  which  were  burned  and  scarred  for  life,  of  which 
she  took  no  heed  :  and  she  threw  the  contents — the 
bubbling,  boiling  broth — full  in  the  faces  of  the  three 
men  at  the  moment  when  their  swords  were  drawn, 
and  the  battle  was  beginning. 

They  shrieked  :  they  dropped  their  swords :  they 
leaped  in  the  air,  cursing  and  shrieking:  they  were 
scalded  :  they  were  blinded. 

"What  sort  of  a  lesson  is  this?"  asked  George, 
above.  "  Some  one  must  be  hurt."  He  rose  to  go 
downstairs,  but  I  stopped  him. 

"They  are  laughing,"  I  said.  "It  is  some  horse- 
play of  the  Captain  and  his  friends." 

The  Corporal  seized  their  swords.  "  Surrender, 
gentlemen,"  he  said.  Alas  !  They  could  neither  sur- 
render nor  fight,  such  was  the  agony  of  their  faces 
from  the  boiling  broth. 

Captain  Sellinger  put  up  his  sword.  "  I  think, 
Sir,"  he  said  to  his  chief,  "  that  Molly,  the  maid,  carries 
ofif  the  honours  of  the  field.  What  shall  we  do 
next?" 

"  When  these  gentlemen  have  arrived  at  a  lower 
pitch  of  pain,  which  will  enable  them  to  speak —     Do 


The  ''Tower  of  Brill/'  255 

you  surrender,  gentlemen,  or  shall  Corporal  Bates 
finish  this  encounter  for  you  ?  " 

"  We  surrender,"  one  of  them  replied. 

"We  surrender.  Sir,"  said  Dr.  Mynsterchamber,  sit- 
ting down  and  replacing  the  candles  on  the  table. 

"Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  that  we  did  not  proceed  to 
a  more  legitimate  conclusion.  Let  us  hope  that  when 
your  designs  are  more  complete,  you  will  allow  me  to 
meet  you  in  the  open  field.  For  the  moment.  I  have 
but  one  thing  to  say.  If  we  take  you  prisoners,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  you  will  end  your  days  on  Tower 
Hill  or  at  Newgate.  As  your  attempt  has  proved 
futile,  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  the  less  said  about 
it  the  better.  You  will  therefore  get  into  the  coach 
you  designed  for  my  brother  and  myself :  you  will 
make  your  way  to  the  Tozvcr  of  Brill,  your  ship  ;  and 
if  that  vessel  is  found  in  the  Pool  to-morrow  morn- 
ing you  shall  all  be  arrested,  tried,  and  hanged  as 
traitors." 

No  one  replied.  The  pain  of  the  scalding  forbade 
any  reply. 

"  Here  is  a  man  either  dead  or  wounded.  Carry 
your  man  away." 

Thus,  in  grievous  plight,  in  the  agony  of  scalded 
cheeks  and  blinded  eyes,  they  lifted  their  great  fat 
skipper  and  bore  him  into  the  coach. 

Captain  Sellinger  followed  after.  He  declared 
afterwards  that  the  wounded  man  groaned  audibly ; 
so  that,  perhaps,  he  was  not  killed.  When  they  were 
all  in  the  coach  he  stood  at  the  window  and  addressed 
the  discomfited  conspirators. 


256  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  congratulate  you.  The 
attempt  was  gallant :  but  you  were  ill  advised  in  try- 
ing to  fight  in  so  narrow  a  space,  which  exposed  you 
to  the  sword  of  the  first  comer — and  in  the  flank. 
Moreover,  you  did  not  take  into  account  the  devotion 
of  the  women  to  our  cause.  Believe  me,  the  Roman 
Catholic  Pretender,  should  he  land,  will  go  home  with 
a  dishclout  to  his  tail.  Remember,  that  the  evidence 
against  you  is  full  and  complete.  You  are  allowed  to 
escape,  but  you  are  known :  if  any  one  of  you  should 
venture  to  show  his  face  again  on  this  soil  of  Great 
Britain,  he  will  have  himself  to  blame  for  his  own  trial 
and  subsequent  hanging  with  its  usual  trimmings. 
Corporal,  is  the  coachman  ready  ?  Good.  Coachman, 
you  will  get  your  fare  embarked  as  soon  as  you  can  at 
Whitehall  Stairs.  You  are  also  known  after  your  long 
attendance  in  St.  James's  Place.  You  had  better  get 
into  the  boat  as  well.  What  has  been  said  to  the 
gentlemen  inside,  is  also  said  to  you.  'Ware  prison  ! 
'ware  gallows!  Gentlemen,  bon  voyage!  Some  kinds 
of  soft  soap  or  goose-grease  are  recommended  for 
scalds  and  burns.  No  doubt,  on  board,  you  will  find  all 
that  the  '  Pharmacopoeia  '  itself  could  recommend." 

The  Captain  returned  to  the  house  when  the  coach 
had  rumbled  out  of  St.  James's  Place. 

He  found  his  chief  sitting  at  the  table  in  the 
Doctor's  room,  his  sword  lying  across  the  table. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  they  are  gone.  Captain?  Thus  is 
broken  up  a  nest  of  traitors  and  rebels.  Let  them  go. 
Is  the  man  dead  ?  " 

"  I    believe   he  groaned  as  they  carried  him.     An- 


The  ''Tower  of  Brill.''  257 

other  is  pricked,  but  I  believe  not  seriously :  the  hot 
broth  did  the  job,  Sir." 

'*  Here  is  the  contriver  and  leader  in  the  whole  busi- 
ness.    I  have  kept  him  for  a  little  conversation." 

The  Doctor  was  dressed  in  a  long  travelling  roquc- 
laure  :  his  neck  was  muffled  up  :  he  wore  his  hat. 
The  box  in  which  he  kept  his  papers  was  open  and 
empty  :  his  cupboard  door  stood  open  :  it  was  evident 
that  as  soon  as  the  attempt  was  resolved  upon  he  had 
made  hasty  arrangements  for  immediate  flight  ;  and 
that,  whether  the  attempt  was  successful  or  not.  He 
stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  wrinkled  old  face 
showing  no  sign  of  any  emotion  whatever  :  at  the  door 
stood  the  Corporal  as  guard,  carrying  his  naked  sword, 
on  the  blade  of  which  he  observed  with  infinite  grati- 
fication signs  of  the  recent  conflict.  On  the  table  lay 
a  packet  of  papers,  tied  up. 

"  These  papers.  Captain  Sellinger,  were  taken  from 
the  pocket  of  our  prisoner — this  man  whom  they  call 
Dr.  Mynsterchamber.  He  was  preparing  for  depar- 
ture and  had  tied  them  up  in  readiness.  I  have  looked 
at  them.  I  find  sufficient  proof  in  them  that  he  is  a 
double-dyed  traitor.  Tell  me.  Sir,  what  should  I  do 
with  him  ?  " 

"  Hang  him  !  "  said  the  Captain,  "  unless  some  other 
and  slower  form  of  death  can  be  found." 

The  Doctor  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

"  It  is  now  some  weeks  since  I  made  it  my  business 
to  ascertain  who  and  what  this  Dr.  Mynsterchamber 
professed  to  be.  The  creature  " — he  spoke  and  looked 
as  if  the  man  was  not   present — "  is  by  profession  a 


258  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

spy.  He  is  a  spy,^  say.  He  is  in  the  service  of  his 
Majesty's  Government  to  act  as  a  spy  ni  France.  He 
is  in  the  household  of  the  Elder  Pretender.  As  a  spy 
in  our  service  he  can  come  here  and  live  here  when  he 
pleases :  as  a  Jacobite  he  is  free  to  go  all  over  France 
as  he  pleases.  It  is  a  most  honourable  occupation. 
First,  he  deceives  his  friends  in  France  and  reports 
their  doings.  Then  he  comes  over  here  and  takes  the 
King's  pay,  and  spies  out  our  doings." 

"  Hang  him  !     Hang  him  !  "  said  the  Captain. 

("  They  are  quite  quiet  again,"  said  George,  up- 
stairs.    "  I  wonder  what  all  the  noise  meant.") 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  this  villain.  Captain?  " 

"  Hang  him  !  " 

"As  for  this  conspiracy,  it  was  audacious,  enough  to 
be  successful.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  accidental  dis- 
covery of  Corporal  Bates  it  would  have  been  success- 
ful. The  kingdom,  for  some  time  afterwards,  would 
have  been  thrown  into  confusion.  But  no  great  harm 
would  have  followed.  We've  got  to  fight  out  the 
quarrel  with  France,  whether  my  brother  and  I  are 
prisoners  or  not.  Still,  the  attempt,  made  by  one  in 
English  pay,  was,  as  I  said,  audacious."  He  turned 
suddenly  to  the  prisoner,  "  Now,  Sir,  have  you  any- 
thing to  say  ?  " 

The  Doctor  lifted  his  head,  took  off  his  hat,  and 
cried  in  a  strong  resolute  voice — 

"  God  save  King  James  !  " 

"  The  Pretender !  "  said  Captain  Sellinger. 

"  And  God  save  Prince  Charles  Edward  !  " 

''Very  good.  \Vhat  else  have  you  to  say  before 
YOU  go  into  Newgate  Jail  ?  '* 


The  ''Tower  of  Brill/'  259 

"  Learn,  Sir,"  the  Doctor  repHed  with  dignity, 
"that  my  friends  are  loyal  men.  With  us  loyalty 
means  an  attachment  to  the  Throne,  which  you  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  understand.  The  loyalty  of 
the  Jacobites  survives  everything :  the  stupidity  of 
one  King:  the  profligacy  of  another:  the  obstinacy 
of  a  third.  If  a  King  is  a  weak  or  a  bad  King,  he 
is  still  King  by  Divine  appointment :  we  wait  for  a 
better  King.  James  the  Second  threw  away  the 
Crown  :  but  he  could  not  throw  away  the  loyalty  of 
the  faithful.  Our  loyalty  means  not  only  loyalty  to 
death,  but  more  :  it  means  loyalty  to  dishonour  if 
necessary.  I  am  a  gentleman :  my  father  was  en- 
nobled by  James  the  Second  when  in  exile  :  yet  I  am 
a  spy.  I  pretend  to  betray  my  King's  secrets  in  order 
to  obtain  the  secrets  of  your  Court.  I  take  money 
from  you  :  in  return  I  supply  you  with  false  informa- 
tion as  to%he  strength  and  the  destination  of  the 
French  fleets " 

"  The  villain  !  "  said  Captain  Sellinger. 

"  And  I  am  permitted  to  come  over  here ;  to  go 
about  where  I  please;  to  converse  with  Ministers;  to 
learn  your  plans.  All  that  I  learn  and  discover  I  most 
faithfully  report  by  means  of  secret  messengers,  who 
are  English  on  this  side  and  French  on  the  other. 
These  things — this  treachery  which  would  be  dishon- 
ouring in  any  other  cause,  are  accounted  among  loyal- 
ists as  honourable  and  commendable.  If,  Sir,  I  have 
the  approbation  of  my  King  and  my  friends,  what  do 
I  care  for  any  opinion  of  yours?  " 

"  You  confess  that  you  lie,  degrade,  and  debase  your 


26o  A  Fountain  Sealed* 

soul  every  day.  Yet  it  is  in  the  cause  of  righteousness. 
Then  we  may  break  all  the  Commandments  daily  in 
support  of  the  Christian  Faith." 

"  I  am  loyal.  That  is  the  sum  of  all.  Now,  Sir,  I 
am  ready  to  go  to  your  prison.  I  am  an  old  man, 
seventy-five  years  of  age.  Not  too  old  to  die  for  my 
King,  but  too  old  to  fear  death." 

"  Perhaps  there  will  be  no  prison.  I  think.  Master 
Loyalist,  that  if  you  are  once  out  of  the  country  you 
can  do  us  very  little  further  harm.  Therefore,  while 
we  keep  the  papers,  we  will  not  keep  the  writer. 
Corporal,  search  the  prisoner  for  more  papers." 

There  were  no  more.  All  the  papers  were  in  the 
packet  lying  on  the  table, 

"  Now,  Sir,  you  can  go.  There  will  be  time  for  you 
to  get  on  board  the  Toiver  of  Brill  before  she  weighs 
anchor.  Should  the  ship  be  taken  to-morrow  morning, 
I  fear  that  you,  too,  will  be  hanged  with  the  rest. 
The  Corporal  here,  who  understands  French,  will  give 
sufficient  evidence  for  hanging  purposes." 

"Oh!"  The  Doctor  looked  astonished.  "You 
understand  French — you  ?  Perhaps  you,  too,  are  a 
loyalist." 

"  I  am.  To  the  House  of  Brunswick,"  said  the  Cor- 
poral stiffly. 

"  And  you  listened,  I  suppose  :  and  reported  what 
you  heard.  Villain ! "  Indignation  choked  him. 
" A  spy  !     Faugh  !     A  spy  !  " 

"Come,"  said  the  Captain  roughly.  "What  the 
devil  are  you  yourself?  Pack!  March  !  Get  thee  to 
thine  own  friends,  double-dyed  traitor!" 


The  ''Tower  of  Brill.^  261 

The  Doctor  walked  away  with  dignity,  tall  and  erect 
as  a  lance,  although  so  old.  It  degrades  a  man  to  be 
a  spy  :  but  loyalty  covers  all. 

"  Corporal  Bates."  The  Chief  turned  to  his 
defender. 

The  Corporal  stood  at  attention, 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  ever  forget  the  events 
of  this  evening.  Had  it  not  been  for  your  zeal  in  dis- 
covering this  horrid  plot ;  and  for  your  discretion  in 
keeping  the  thing  a  secret  ;  and  for  your  bravery  this 
evening,  which  at  the  very  outset  despatched  one  of 
the  villains,  my  brother  and  I  might  now  have  been 
occupants  of  a  French  prison  with  a  dismal  outlook  as 
regards  liberty.  Or  we  might  have  fought  for  our 
liberty  and  fallen.  Be  assured  that  as  opportunity 
offers  I  shall  inform  my  brother  as  to  these  particulars. 
Meantime,  here  is  my  purse,  which  contains,  I  believe, 
fifty  guineas.  Take  it,  Corporal  Bates,  as  an  earnest 
of  future  favours." 

The  Corporal  received  the  purse  with  a  salute  and  in 
silence.  He  hadn't  expected  a  gift  of  money,  which 
he  could  not  refuse.     Yet  it  was  not  what  he  wanted. 

"  I  understand  further,  Corporal  Bates,  that  you  are 
a  person  of  many  accomplishments ;  speaking  other 
languages,  skilled  in  the  art  of  fence,  able  to  instruct 
in  fortifications  and  the  mathematics  ;  and  that  you  are, 
in  addition,  a  sober  man,  well  mannered,  creditably 
married,  and  in  no  way  likely  to  bring  discredit  upon 
epaulettes  not  of  wool."  The  Corporal  made  no  sign 
save  that  his  cheek  turned  pale.  He  was  now  on  the 
point    of    achieving   his  fondest  and    most   constant 


262  A  Fountrin  Sealed. 

dream.  "  I  understand,  further,  from  Captain  Sellinger, 
that  you  are  desirous,  above  all  things  of  obtaining  his 
Majesty's  Commisson." 

"  Sir,  I  have  no  other  ambition,"  the  poor  Corporal 
murmured. 

"  It  is  a  highly  laudable  ambition.  Well,  Sir,  I  take 
it  upon  myself  to  speak  for  your  valour.  As  to  the 
rest  of  your  accomplishments  I  take  the  word  of  Cap- 
tain Sellinger.  I  shall  venture,  Sir,  to  recommend 
you  to  his  Majesty." 

The  Corporal's  face  fell.  Other  patrons  had  made 
him  the  same  promise,  but  he  remained  a  Corporal. 

Then  Captain  Sellinger  whispered  something. 

"  Corporal  Bates,"  said  the  Chief,  "  would  you  ex- 
change your  woolen  epaulettes  for  the  gold  lace  of  a 
Royal  Marine  ?  " 

"  Sir,  you  make  me  the  proudest  man  in  the  whole 
world." 

"  Then  it  is  as  good  as  done.  Captain  Sellinger, 
present  to  me  Lieutenant  Bates,  of  his  Majesty's  Reg- 
iment of  Royal  Marines." 

The  Lieutenant  fell  on  his  knees  while  the  tears  of 
joy  ran  down  his  cheek.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  my  only 
prayer  is  that  I  may  be  sent  in  command  of  a  com- 
pany to  take  the  enemy's  forts,  and  that  under  your 
very  eyes,  to  justify  this  promotion  !  " 

"We  will  dispense  with  your  convoy  to-night.  Cap- 
tain Sellinger."  So  he  went  upstairs,  nodding  his  head 
good  humouredly  to  the  Corporal. 

"  Lieutenant  Bates,"  said  the  Captain.  "  We  are 
now  brothers-in-arms.     We  can  drink  together.     There 


The  "Tower  of  Brill.^  263 

are — ah  ! — arrears  to  pull  up  and  new  toasts  to  drink. 
'  Confusion  to  all  Traitors  and  Rebels  ! '  "  Success  to 
the  Youngest  Officer  in  his  Majesty's  Service! '  'The 
Health  of  the  Divine  Nancy  ! '  Come,  Lieutenant. 
This  night,  if  ever,  thou  shalt  have  a  skinful." 


CHAPTER  XX. 
''There  shall  be  no  Obstacle.'' 

All  that  afternoon  my  cousin  and  I  talked  over  the 
position  of  things.  I  had  no  secrets  from  her :  I  told 
her  exactly  what  Edward  had  said  :  how  at  the  end  he 
melted  :  how  I  had  resolved  to  leave  everything  to 
George  himself. 

"  Not  able  to  marry  you  ?  What  does  the  man 
mean  ? "  my  cousin  asked.  "  Why,  Nancy,  to  be 
sure,  he  is  a  great  lord  :  I  am  certain  of  that :  the 
star  which  he  sometimes  wears  betrays  his  rank  :  and 
as  for  us,  we  belong  only  to  the  trading  class :  but 
Love  levels  all :  and  Sir  George  has  over  and  over 
again  assured  me  that  he  has  never  found,  among  the 
greatest  ladies,  any  whose  manners  are  more  polite 
than  your  own  ;  nor  any  whose  mind  is  purer  and 
whose  face  and  form  are  more  bewitching.  Not  marry 
you  ?  " 

"  Edward  was  all  kindness,  Isabel :  he  shed  tears 
while  he  spoke  to  me." 

"  Not  able  to  marry  ?  Then  the  creature  must  be 
married  already." 

"  Nay ;  I  am  certain  that  he  is  not.  I  am,  he  has 
told  me,  the  first.  His  brother  assures  me  that  no 
other  woman  has  ever  yet  attracted  his  eyes." 


^  There  shall  be  no  Obstacle.^  265 

"  Then — what  can  he  mean  ?  He  is  of  age ;  his 
father  is  dead  ;  he  can  please  himself.  Perhaps  they 
promised  him  when  he  was  of  tender  years  to  some 
girl  of  his  own  rank.  Why  can  he  not  please  himself? 
If  he  would  please  himself,  it  would  be  with  thee,  my 
Nancy.     Of  that  be  well  assured." 

"  Indeed,"  I  confessed,  "  I  am  well  assured  of  that. 
Never  was  any  woman  more  assured  of  her  lover's 
truth." 

"  So  we  all  think ;  yet  .  .  .  not  that  my  Reuben  ever 
gave  me  any  cause  to  think  otherwise.  But,  Nancy, 
the  question  is,  what  are  the  reasons?  Why  cannot 
Sir  George  marry  you  ?  " 

"  The  reasons  he  must  tell  me  himself." 

"Shall  I  ask  him,  child?  Stay  in  your  own  room 
this  evening  and  I  will  ask  him." 

"  Nay,  but  I  would  not  have  any  one — not  even 
thee,  cousin,  between  him  and  me.  Let  him  tell  me 
what  he  pleases.  If  we  are  to  part,  it  must  come 
from  his  own  lips  .  .  .  ."  And  again  tears  came  to 
my  relief. 

"  Part — part — why  ?  "  My  cousin  bent  over  me 
and  kissed  me.  "Has  the  man  eyes?  Has  the  man 
a  heart?  Part  with  the  sweetest  girl  in  the  world? 
He  cannot,  my  dear.  He  cannot,  except  he  were  the 
King  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  Heart  up,  Nancy  ! 
Heart  up!  Thy  sweetheart  shall  carry  thee  off  to 
church — he  shall — with  a  laugh  on  his  lips  and  a  shake 
in  his  leg,  and  ring  thee  before  all  the  world.  Why 
else  did  he  wish  thee  to  be  baptised  ?  Why  else  did 
he   take   us  on    the   river  and  to  the  Gardens  ?     My 


2  66  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

dear,  it  Wefe  else  a  most  monstrous  thing  thus  to  play 
with  a  girl's  affections.  It  were  worse  with  such  a 
girl  as  mv  Nancy,  than  to  betray  the  blowsy  inno- 
cence of  some  milkmaid.  No — no — Sir  George  could 
not.  His  face  and  his  discourse  :  his  heart  and  his 
mind  :  are  too  full  of  truth  and  of  religion.  He  could 
not,  I  say.     Oh,  he  could  not." 

"Then  there  is  another  thing,  cousin.  If  to  marry 
me  would  bring  trouble  upon  him,  it  were  better  that 
I  should  die." 

"Trouble?  What  trouble,  I  pray?"  she  replied 
quickly.  "  Out  of  honest  love  no  trouble  ever  sprang. 
Say  he  is  above  thee  in  rank,  Nancy.  Call  him  Earl 
or  Duke — he  is  master  of  himself  and  his  own  actions. 
What  can  his  friends  do  when  they  find  it  out? 
Nothing.  They  may  be  disappointed.  Those  fine 
Court  ladies  of  whom  Robert  speaks  so  kindly  will 
tear  their  hair  for  spite.  But,  since  the  thing  is 
done " 

"  It  is  not  yet  done,  cousin." 

"  It  will  be  done — and  that  very  soon — if  I  have 
studied  that  young  gentleman  to  any  purpose.  My 
dear,  men  are  like  chips  and  matches,  some  of  which 
catch  fire  quickly  and  burn  out  in  no  time,  while 
others  are  slow  to  light  but  burn  on  steadily  and 
gradually.  Sir  George  is  one  who  is  slow  to  light. 
But  once  he  burns  he  is  all  pure  flame." 

Thus  we  talked,  and  though  my  cousin  assured  me 
of  her  perfect  confidence  there  lay  upon  me  the 
weight  of  foreboding — a  sense  of  coming  evil. 

In  the   evening,  about  half-past   eight,  our  friends 


'^  There  shall  be  no  Obstacle/'  267 

came  as  usual  Isabel  begged  to  be  excused,  because 
she  must  go  to  see  a  poor  woman  in  the  garrets  who 
had  children  to  clothe.  So  she  went  away,  promising 
to  return  shortly. 

What  happened  next,  you  know.  At  a  certain  sig- 
nal Edward  went  out,  also  promising  to  return  shortly. 

Then  we  heard  the  noise  below:  the  trampling  and 
the  shouting. 

"  One  would  think  it  a  fencing-bout,"  said  Sir 
George.  "  A  strange  place  and  a  strange  time  for  a 
fencing-bout!  " 

Then  he  sat  down  beside  me. 

For  the  first  time  we  were  alone.  He  sat  down,  I 
say,  beside  me  :  then  he  sank  on  one  knee  and  caught 
my  hand  and  began  to  kiss  it  fondly. 

"Oh,  Nancy!  "  he  said,  "sweet  maid — heart  of  my 
heart !  "  I  cannot  write  down  all  that  he  said.  Sure, 
never  did  fond  lover  express  his  love  more  passion- 
ately, or  with  greater  extravagance.  Women  do  not 
love  in  the  same  way.  Their  sweethearts  are  not  gods 
to  them — yet  they  desire  no  other  gods  :  they  love  the 
man:  they  see  him  as  he  might  be:  as  he  was  in- 
tended to  be  :  as  the  Lord  meant  him  to  be  :  they 
see,  though  in  a  glass  darkly,  because  their  eyes  are 
not  strong  enough  to  gaze  upon  the  glory,  nor  can 
their  minds  imagine  or  figure  to  themselves  the  splen- 
dour of  the  truth — but  they  see  imperfectly  the  man 
as  he  will  be,  glorified  and  made  perfect  i  they  under, 
stand  his  shortcomings  and  his  faults,  which  are  to 
them  only  like  so  many  excrescences  that  can  be 
shaken  off.     Never  did  I  worship  George  as  he  wor- 


268  A  Fountain  Sealeci, 

shipped  me:  why,  the  fact  itself  that  he  should  find  in 
me  so  much  perfection  when  I  was  conscious  of  so  many- 
faults,  made  me  feel  his  weakness.  Yet  every  woman 
likes  it.  Oh!  how  happy  did  it  make  me  to  be  told 
that  I  was  a  goddess  !  Oh  !  how  did  my  poor  heart 
beat  and  the  colour  fly  to  my  face  when  that  dearest 
and  best  of  men — that  man  in  whom  were  united  all 
the  virtues  of  honour,  truth,  and  purity — knelt  at  my 
feet  to  tell  me  with  such  extravagances  as  moved  me 
well-nigh  to  tears  of  joy  and  happiness  that  he  loved 
me — he  loved  me — he  loved  me. 

"  My  dearest  Nancy,"  he  said,  calming  himself  after 
a  while.  "  We  are  so  seldom  alone.  This  is  the  rar- 
est chance.  It  is  only  on  such  a  chance  that  we  can 
speak.  Nancy  :  when  wilt  thou  be  mine,  altogether 
— my  bride  ?  " 

"  Oh !  When  my  Lord  shall  command.  I  will 
obey  in  anything," 

"  Yes — yes — I  will  think.  I  will  consult  Edward.  I 
can  do  nothing  without  Edward." 

*'  He  was  here  this  morning.  He  told  me  ...  he 
said  plainly  .  .  .  that  there  were  reasons  which  would 
stand  between  you  and  me." 

"What  reasons  are  those?  I  know  of  none  that  I 
cannot  meet,  if  I  choose." 

"  I  know  not.  He  would  not  tell  me.  Nor,  indeed, 
did  I  press  him,  because  I  would  know  nothing  except 
from  your  own  lips.  If  there  are  reasons,  let  us  part 
at  once." 

Part  at  once!  Why  he  was  sitting  beside  me:  my 
head  was  on  his  heart  :  he  was  kissing  me  fondly  :  one 


"  There  shall  be  no  Obstacle/'  269 

arm  was  round  my  waist  :  one  hand  was  holding  my 
hand.     Part  at  once  ! 

He  laughed,  "  Part  at  once  ?  "  he  cried.  "  We  will 
part,  my  Nancy,  when  the  span  of  life  is  finished  and 
I  am  called  away.  Then  you  shall  remain  to  pray  a 
little  for  me  (if  it  is  allowed  to  pray  for  the  dead)." 

"  Child  !  "  he  said,  after  these  transports,  or  in  the 
midst  of  them.  "  I  cannot  live  without  thee.  Edward 
has  been  telling  me  this,  and  that,  and  the  other. 
They  are  obstacles,  he  says.  I  will  admit  no  obstacles. 
I  care  not  what  they  say.  If  I  cannot  please  my  own 
heart,  I  will  step  down  and  suffer  Edward  to  take  my 
place." 

"  Nay,"  I  said,  not  understanding  what  he  meant, 
"  but  I  love  thee  too  well,  George,  to  stand  in  thy  way. 
It  is  enough  for  me  to  be  loved.  Let  me  go  and  re- 
member that." 

"  Go  ?  Never !  I  will  not  leave  thee,  Nancy.  Now 
listen.  There  are  reasons  w  hy  I  cannot  place  thee  be- 
side me  :  we  must  love  in  secret,  and  thou  must  live  in 
obscurity.  But  I  would  not  wrong  thee.  Oh !  to 
wrong  this  pure  angel — to  bring  sorrow  and  shame 
upon  thee — I  could  not,  Nancy,  were  I  the  deepest 
profligate  in  all  this  wicked  town.  I  could  not,  I  say. 
Believe  me,  dearest  girl.  I  were  not  worthy  to  love 
so  much  goodness  if  I  were  capable  of  such  a  thought." 

There  needed  no  assurance  on  this  point.  I  told 
him  so. 

"  Edward  and  I  have  talked  it  over.  Edward  is  the 
best  brother  that  ever  lived.  Of  all  creatures  I  love 
him  best — next  to  you.     I  told  him,   this  very  day, 


270  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

that  I  would  hear  of  no  obstacles.  He  gave  way. 
He  will  help  us  in  everything.  Now,  Nancy,  listen  to 
what  we  have  arranged.  We  will  be  married  to- 
morrow morning — I  know  not  in  what  Church — Ed- 
ward knows:  I  know  not  by  what  clergyman — Edward 
knows  :  in  some  name  or  other — perhaps  that  of  Le 
Breton — Edward  knows.  The  coach  shall  come  for 
thee  in  the  morning  about  eight.  After  the  ceremony 
we  shall  go  to  some  place — it  is  a  small  house  close  by 
in  Catherine  Wheel  Alley,  looking  over  the  Park.  He 
found  it,  bought  it,  furniture  and  all,  this  afternoon  : 
he  has  also  put  a  few  servants  in  it  :  it  shall  be  thy  nest, 
my  love,  thy  bower,  where  thou  shalt  sit  and  dream  of 
love  and  of  thy  lover.  Nancy,  never  did  I  know  what 
happiness  meant  until  I  learned  to  love  thee.  I  am 
not  like  one  of  the  town  gallants  who  catch  fire  at  the 
rustle  of  a  furbelow  :  I  cannot,  I  think,  love  a  woman 
unless  I  am  truly  persuaded  that  she  is  as  beautiful 
within  as  without.  I  would  lay  my  whole  heart  open 
to  the  woman  I  love.  I  would  make  her  the  casket  to 
contain  all  my  secret  thoughts,  my  ambitions,  and 
everything.  With  such  a  woman  for  a  partner  a  man 
might  become  indeed  a  king."  He  raised  his  head  : 
his  eyes  became  fixed  :  he  was  one  who  saw  in  a  vision 
noble  deeds  and  kingly  thoughts. 

"  But  thou  must  be  effaced  from  view — an  invisible 
bride— canst  thou  do  so  much  for  me,  Nancy,  without 
repining?  " 

"  I  can  do  more  than  that,  George,  for  such  a  lover — 
I  could  die  for  him — oh  !  so  gladly,  if  it  would  help 
him." 


"There  shall  be  no  Obstacle.''  271 

With  that  he  kissed  me  again,  and  so  we  continued 
our  discourse  till  Edward  came  back,  this  business  of 
his  happily  accomplished. 

"You  have  had  your  fencing-bout?"  said  George. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  We  have  had  the  fencing-bout,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Now,  George,  have  you  told  this  sweet  girl 
Vvhat  to-morrow  brings  with  it?" 

"  I  have  told  her.     She  agrees." 

Oh !     But  he  never  asked  me  if  I  agreed. 

"Then,  Nancy,  to-morrow  we  shall  be  brother  and 
sister — as  dear  to  me,  believe  it,  as  any  other  sister 
could  be.  George  is  not  worthy  of  thee,  I  begin  to 
think.  Yet  a  moderately  fond  lover;  and  I  dare 
swear,  as  constant  as  any  of  his  rank  in  Europe. 
Well,  Nancy,  I  hope  the  house  will  be  to  thy  Hking. 
The  rooms  are  small ;  the  house  belonged  to  old  Lady 
Harlow  who  died  some  months  ago.  There  is  a  win- 
dow in  the  first  floor  overlooking  the  park,  with  a 
Venetian  balcony." 

"And  we  have  never  yet  told  her  our  real  names," 
said  George. 

"  Tell  me  at  your  own  leisure.  Not  to-night,  George. 
Let  me  not  be  dazzled  with  greatness.  I  am  too 
happy  to-night.  To-morrow,  be  Baron,  Earl,  or  Duke 
— what  you  will." 

"  I  shall  use  your  permission — I  will  be  what  I  am. 
I  remember  what  you  told  me,  about  the  Lord  Bur- 
leigh who  married  the  country  girl :  that  he  should  not 
have  taken  her  to  his  grand  house.  Have  you  got  a 
grand  house  ?  " 


272  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  I  have  two  or  three.  In  due  course  I  shall  have 
more." 

"  Then,  my  dear,  do  not  take  me  to  them  :  leave  me 
in  that  modest  cottage  of  which  you  speak,  near  at 
hand,  so  that  I  may  see  you  often.  Let  me  remain  in 
obscurity  :  believe  me,  I  shall  never  desire  to  take  my 
place  before  the  world  :  it  will  be  happiness  enough  for 
me  to  be  so  in  reality  and  enjoy  your  affection." 

"  Nancy  !  "  So  he  fell  into  a  transport  again,  swear- 
ing— but  you  know  what  he  would  swear  at  such  a 
moment. 

At  this  moment  my  cousin  returned.  "  Sir  George," 
she  said,  "  I  pray  you  to  forgive  me.  That  poor 
woman,  with  her  six  children " 

"  Let  me  minister,  through  you,  dear  lady,  to  their 
wants."  So  he  lugged  out  his  purse,  filled  with  guineas, 
and  laid  it  in  her  hands.  "  It  is  a  thank-offering,"  he 
said.  "  I  give  thee  this  money  in  memory.  This  fair 
cousin  of  yours,  Madam,  has  this  morning  come  to  an 
understanding  with  me.  We  have,  in  a  word,  arranged 
things  for  our  own  satisfaction  first ;  and  for  the  con- 
sideration of  other  people — who  must  also  be  consi- 
dered— next.  I  am  blessed  indeed,  for  my  own  part, 
because  she  hath  promised  to  become  my  own  when- 
ever those  arrangements  can  be  made."  He  spoke 
now  with  the  greatest  dignity.  "I  trust,  Madam,  that 
you  will  believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  whatever 
arrangements  I  may  be  compelled  to  make — always 
subject  to  my  Nancy's  approval — I  shall  be  guided  only 
by  the  resolution  to  make  her  happiness  the  first  con- 
sideration, and  her  interest  the  chief  study  of  my  life/' 


''There  shall  be  no  Obstacle/'  273 

"  Oh,  Sir  !  oh,  Nancy  !  .  .  .  I  have,  of  course,  looked 
for  this.  I  could  not  choose  but  be  aware  of  what  was 
going  on.  Else  why  should  you  and  your  brother  so 
often  visit  two  simple  ladies  who  have  none  of  the  arts 
and  accomplishments  of  the  Great?" 

He  laughed. 

"  My  Nancy  has  arts  and  accomplishments  which 
the  people  you  call  the  Great  cannot  have.  She  has 
taught  me,  dear  Madam,  some  of  the  dangers  and  temp- 
tations which  beset  great  people.  By  your  leave  I 
will  tell  you  what  these  are.  We — may  I  say  zvc  and 
not  they  ?  We,  I  say,  have  not  to  work  for  what  we 
enjoy:  therefore  we  enjoy  nothing:  we  have  not  to 
long  for  something  and  save  up  for  it,  and  deprive  our- 
selves of  this  and  of  that  in  order  to  get  it :  if  we 
want  a  thing  we  have  it.  Therefore,  we  value  noth- 
ing. No  one  contradicts  us ;  therefore,  we  think  we 
know  everything,  and  are  vain  accordingly.  We  have 
no  uncertainty  about  fortune  :  it  is  true  that  history 
is  full  of  the  sad  ends  of  prince  and  noble :  but  in  this 
polite  age  such  deaths  by  violence  or  by  Civil  War  do 
not  happen.  There  will  be  no  more  murder  of  princes 
in  the  Tower  :  no  more  beheading  of  Kings  at  White- 
hall. Again,  we  know  nothing  of  the  struggle  for  a 
livelihood  and  of  the  patience  of  women  in  poverty 
and  their  contrivance  to  keep  the  children.  We  are 
raised,  as  they  call  it,  above  these  things.  Therefore 
we  grow  selfish.  Now,  my  dear  Nancy  has  contra- 
dicted me  times  out  of  number.  She  has  taught  me 
that  I  know  nothing :  she  has  shown  me  what  they  are 
like — the  people  of  whom  I  used  to  speak  ignorantly. 


274  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

I  am  lowered  in  my  own  conceit,  and  therefore  I  am 
raised  in  reality.  She  has  herself  most  unconsciously 
made  me  more  worthy — yet  still  most  unworthy — to  be 
her  lover.  Believe  me,  Madam  " — again  he  took  my 
hand  and  kissed  it — "  there  is  no  rank  so  lofty  which 
would  not  be  graced  by  Nancy.  There  is  no  title  so 
grand  as  that  of  Nancy's  lover." 

"  Oh  !  Sir,"  cried  my  cousin,  quite  overcome  and 
unable  to  say  more.  "  Oh !  Sir ;  it  is  too  much,  in- 
deed," and  so  fell  back  into  a  chair,  where  she  lay, 
half  in  tears  and  half  laughing,  fanning  herself  vio- 
lently. She  said  afterwards  that  the  reason  of  this 
emotion  was  the  first  discovery  of  the  authority — not 
to  say  the  majesty — with  which  this  young  man  spoke. 
In  a  Bishop,  she  said,  or  in  a  Judge,  such  authority 
might  be  looked  for:  but  in  so  young  a  man  'twas 
wonderful.  However,  the  events  of  the  next  day 
might  possibly  have  coloured  her  imagination.  All  I 
know  is  that  the  dear  woman  was  profoundly  affected 
when  she  heard  this  gracious  speech.  I  may  say  it 
here,  and  once  for  all,  that  whatever  my  cousin  did  for 
me ;  whether  she  took  me  away  from  my  sepulchral 
home :  whether  she  took  off  the  Quaker  habits  and 
made  me  drop  the  Quaker  speech :  whether  she 
showed  me  the  wicked  world  :  whether  she  allowed 
these  young  men  to  visit  us  :  whether  she  suffered 
them  to  offer  entertainments  :  all  she  did  was  done 
out  of  pure  love  for  me  and  consideration  for  me. 
First,  she  would  drag  me  out  of  the  melancholy 
which  oppressed  my  soul,  and  next  she  would  en- 
courage the  passion  of  which  she  watched  and  knew 


*' There  shall  be  no  Obstacle/'  275 

the  first  beginnings.  If  my  cousin's  conduct  brought 
upon  me  my  greatest  misfortunes,  it  gave  me  my 
greatest  happiness.  But  for  her,  Robert  Storey 
might  have  been  in  my  estimation  a  man  of  the  finest 
manners.  Nay,  more :  but  for  her,  Robert  Storey 
might  have  been  my  husband. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
To  Dress  the  Bride, 

It  was  late  when  they  went  away,  for  there  was 
much  to  say,  and  Edward  was  full  of  spirits,  all  the 
more  because  of  the  victory  won  down  below,  of 
which  we  heard  from  Molly  you  may  be  sure. 

When  they  were  gone,  my  cousin  fell  to  kissing  me 
again.  "  Thou  art  born  for  love,  Nancy,  Oh !  not 
the  common  kind.  He  who  once  loves  thee  will  never 
forget  thee  !  What  have  I  read  ?  There  is  a  love, 
even  between  man  and  woman,  which  is  heavenly 
love :  there  is  also  the  love  which  is  earthly  love. 
Thine  is  the  heavenly  love  !  So  long  as  thy  lover  is 
filled  with  thy  image  he  will  never  go  wrong  :  he  will 
be  guided  always  by  the  principles  of  honour  and 
religion." 

"  My  lover  wants  not  that  guidance,  cousin." 

"  Women,"  she  went  on,  "  may  pretend  what  they 
please,  but  there  is  no  solid  happiness  in  life  unless  it 
be  accompanied  by  love.  Oh,  yes  !  here  one  and  here 
another,  cold  and  unfit  for  love.  I  talk  of  the  sex, 
my  dear.  Tis  love,  'tis  love — 'tis  love  they  still  de- 
sire. Love  protects  them  from  the  rubs  and  knocks 
of  the  world  :  love  provides  them  with  all  the  good 
things  for  which  their  husbands,  work :  love  fills  the 


To  Dress  the  Bride.  277 

heart.  I  am  a  widow,  and  I  think  I  shall  not  many 
again  because  love  has  filled  my  heart  and  fills  it  still, 
though  my  Reuben  has  been  called  away.  Now  to 
bed,  my  dear.  Wake  in  the  morning  with  rosy  cheeks 
and  bright  eyes.  Go  not  to  the  altar  with  pale  cheek 
and  dull  looks.  Go  like  one  who  greets  the  day  with 
a  thankful  heart." 

So  I  went  to  bed  :  but  not  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning,  at  seven  o'clock,  a  letter  came  to 
me:  brought,  Molly  told  me,  by  a  footman  in  splendid 
livery.     It  is  the  only  love-letter  I  ever  received. 

"  Dearest  Nancy !  Dearest  Nancy  !  Dearest 
Nancy!"  Thus  the  letter  began.  How  tender  and 
sweet  were  the  words !  "  All  night  long  have  I  been 
awake  with  thy  loving  idea  in  my  mind,  so  that  I  had 
no  desire  to  sleep,  but  would  fain  lie  awake  for  ever. 
It  is  now  six  of  the  clock,  and  I  am  sending  thee  this 
note  for  a  Valentine  to  greet  thee  on  thy  pillow.  In 
an  hour  or  two  thou  wilt  be  mine.  Edward  has 
arranged  everything.  We  have  only  to  do  as  he  tells 
us.  It  is  pleasant  to  obey  for  one's  own  happiness. 
Well,  I  enter  this  day  upon  a  life  of  obedience.  This 
world  may  obey  me,  but  I  shall  obey  my  Nancy.  It 
is  like  taking  the  vow  of  a  monk.  I  take  the  vow  of 
poverty,  for  all  my  wealth  is  thine,  to  the  uttermost 
farthing  :  and  of  constancy  to  thee  :  and  of  celibacy, 
except  to  thee  :  and  of  obedience.  You  shall  hear  me 
take  those  vows  at  the  altar. 

"  A  pretty  story  Edward  had  to  tell  me  about  that 
fencing-bout.  My  dear,  it  was  no  fencing-bout,  but  a 
battle  with  Edward,  Captain  Sellinger,  of  the  Horse 


278  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Guards,  and  a  Corporal  on  one  side,  and  half-a-dozen 
traitors  and  would-be  kidnappers  on  the  other.  They 
were  peppered.  I  must  thank  Captain  Sellinger  at 
the  first  opportunity.  Edward  will  procure  for  the 
Corporal  a  commission  in  the  Royal  Marines.  It  is  a 
pretty  story,  and  it  must  be  kept  private  for  the  sake 
of  certain  ladies  of  whom  we  know  something.  If 
Edward  was  endeared  to  me  before,  by  a  thousand  acts 
of  friendship,  think  what  I  must  feel  for  him  now 
when  he  has  risked  his  life  to  save  my  liberty.  Every- 
thing was  arranged:  a  coach  in  readiness:  a  ship  in 
waiting.  Well — Providence  has  interfered,  for  which  I 
am,  I  hope,  properly  grateful. 

"  Thou  wilt  be  in  bed,  my  dearest,  when  you  get 
this  note.  Rise,  Nancy,  and  in  thy  morning  prayers 
remember  me.  This  day  shall  see  us  to  the  altar,  and 
ever  after  shall  we  be  happy  as  the  day  is  long  in  each 
other's  arms.  My  dearest — my  dearest — my  dearest. 
Thy  fond  lover,  GEORGE." 

Did  ever  a  girl  receive  so  peremptory  an  order  to 
get  up  and  dress  in  order  to  be  married  ?  Yet  did 
ever  girl  kiss  the  bridegroom's  letter  with  greater  fond- 
ness? Did  ever  girl  obey  so  readily  and  so  joyfully, 
as  thinking  to  make  her  lover  happy  if  she  could  ? 

I  dressed :  I  took  my  letter  to  my  cousin's  room 
and  showed  it  to  her.  She,  too,  made  haste  to  rise.  I 
called  Molly  :  I  told  her  that  it  was  my  wedding  day : 
that  I  was  to  be  taken  away,  but  not  far,  by  my  hus- 
band :  but  that  I  should  expect  to  keep  her  in  my  ser- 
vice. 

While  she  dressed  my  head,  she  told  me  about  the 


To  Dress  the  Bride*  279 

terrible  battle  and  the  boiling  broth.  I  rejoiced  over 
the  bravery  of  our  side,  and  congratulated  her  upon 
her  contribution.  One  man,  she  said,  was  carried  off 
wounded,  and  perhaps  dead  :  there  was  a  red  pool  of 
blood  only  just  dried  up  on  the  floor  to  show  that  his 
wound  was  desperate.  I  shuddered.  Was  a  fight,  with 
a  death,  of  good  omen  to  a  wedding-day  ?  But  then 
the  fight  was  in  a  good  cause  and  the  right  side  won. 

"  Corporal  Bates,"  she  said,  "  is  well-nigh  off  his  head. 
He  struts  about  this  morning  like  one  possessed.  The 
gentlemen  gave  him  fifty  guineas  :  the  other  gentle- 
man— yours,  Miss  Nancy— sent  his  wife  fifty  more: 
they  are  rich :  the  children  are  to  have  new  frocks  : 
Mrs.  Bates  is  buying  a  new  frock:  and  the  Corporal 
is  to  be  called  henceforth  Lieutenant." 

I  was  pleased,  indeed,  to  hear  of  his  good  fortune. 

"  The  Doctor  is  gone,"  she  continued.  "  They  took 
away  his  papers  and  they  let  him  go.  If  he  returns, 
he  will  be  hanged  and  drawn  and  quartered  for  a 
French  spy." 

That,  too,  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  hear. 

"  Well,  Molly,"  I  said.  "  We  shall  all,  I  hope,  prove 
fortunate  over  this  event.  Meantime,  wait  for  your 
share,  till  I  go  to  my  new  home  which  I  have  not  seen 
in  St.  Catherine  Wheel  Court." 

"  Miss  Nancy,  may  I  go  to  the  church,  too  ?  " 

"  Surely,  Molly.  I  could  not  be  happy  unless  thou 
wert  present.  The  church  is — we  shall  find  out  where 
it  is  presently.  It  may  be  St.  James's  ;  or  St.  Martin's- 
in-the-Fields :  or  even  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster: 
but  we  shall  find  out." 


28o  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

"  The  bridegroom  would  like  a  dish  of  chocolate 
and  some  buttered  toast  before  starting,"  she  said. 
"  The  mornings  are  cold  and  raw.  You,  too.  Miss 
Nancy,  must  take  something  before  you  go  out." 

"  Everything,"  said  my  cousin,  always  ready  to  wel- 
come a  cheerful  aspect  of  Fate,  "  has  turned  out  for 
the  best.  You  suffered  from  melancholia  at  Dart- 
ford  :  you  repined  at  that  affliction  :  but  for  that  you 
would  not  have  come  to  me.  You  gave  up  the 
Society :  but  for  that  you  would  not  have  met  your 
lover.  You  were  ignorant  of  the  world  :  but  for  that 
artless  ignorance  he  would  not  have  loved  you.  It 
was  necessary  to  tell  your  brother  Joseph  something 
of  your  change.  He  came  and  stormed  like  a  mad- 
man, yet  learned  all  that  it  was  proper  for  you  to  tell 
him.  You  need  not  keep  him  informed,  for  the  future, 
of  your  doings.  You  have  explained  to  him  the 
things  which  concern  him  :  a  lawyer  will  make  him 
disgorge  what  I  verily  believe  he  intended  to  keep 
altogether  :  it  matters  not  how  rich  George  may  be — 
a  few  more  thousands  are  always  a  pleasant  addition 
to  one's  fortune.  Thy  George,  dear  Nancy,  will  be  a 
pattern  to  all  husbands :  sober,  religious,  virtuous,  of 
kindly  temper  :  he  is  everything  that  a  husband  should 
be.  Add  to  this  that  he  is  young,  strong,  and  well 
formed.  What  matter  if  he  expects  obedience  ?  A 
wife  should  obey  her  husband  cheerfully.  I  always 
did,  the  more  readily  because  Reuben  would  never 
command  anything  unless  he  knew  that  it  was  in  ac- 
cordance with  my  wishes.  What  was  the  result,  my 
dear.f*     How  was  I  rewarded?     The  whole  of  his  for- 


To  Dress  the  Bride.  281 

tune  devolved  upon  me :  not  a  life  interest,  or  a 
moiety,  or  a  third  part,  on  which  some  poor  widows 
have  to  scratch  along.  Obedience  ?  'Tis  the  first 
mark  of  a  good  wife  that  she  obeys  cheerfully  and 
readily.  An  obedient  wife  makes  an  obedient  hus- 
band. Obedience  ensures  for  a  wife  her  own  way  :  it 
gives  the  responsibility  of  work  to  the  man  and  the 
enjoyment  of  the  harvest  to  the  woman.  Never,  my 
dear,  was  apostolic  injunction  more  misunderstood 
than  that  in  which  is  enjoined  obedience  in  women." 

So  she  went  on  chattering  while  we  busied  about 
the  bridal  dress,  giving  me  such  hints  and  advice  as  to 
the  management  of  a  husband  as  wedded  women  like 
to  bestow  out  of  their  experience.  The  sum  of  it  all 
is,  I  believe,  that  if  two  people  love  each  other  they 
will  give  way  to  each  other,  study  each  other,  take 
care  not  to  insist  too  strongly  on  their  own  wishes, 
and  never  think  obedience  a  duty,  but  a  pleasure. 
Alas !  It  was  love's  labour  lost,  this  advice,  as  you 
shall  presently  see. 

I  put  on  my  white  satin  frock  over  a  hoop  :  Isabel 
trimmed  it  with  laces  and  with  white  ribbons  :  my  hat 
she  also  trimmed  with  white  ribbons,  very  fine  ;  and 
she  gave  me  a  pair  of  white  silk  gloves. 

"  It  is  said,"  she  said,  "  that  thou  wilt  be  married 
with  so  few  spectators.  I  could  wish  all  the  Society  of 
Friends  to  be  in  the  church  :  thy  brother  Joseph  at 
the  head  of  them.  And  Robert  Storey  to  stand  like 
a  play-actor:  and  the  fine  Court  ladies  in  a  row:  all 
to  see  thy  beauty,  and  to  burst  with  envy  at  the  spec- 
tacle of  thy  great  fortune." 


282  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

"  Oh,  dear  cousin !  There  will  be  enough — with 
thee  and  Molly  and  Edward." 

"  My  dear,"  she  stepped  back  and  looked  at  me 
from  top  to  toe,  "thou  art,  indeed,  a  charming  bride  ! 
Some  women  at  the  altar  make  charming  corpses  :  as 
for  thee,  thy  colour  so  comes  and  goes  ;  thine  eyes 
are  so  bright,  thy  cheeks  so  soft !  Oh,  Nancy, 
Nancy  !"  she  caught  me  in  her  arms —  "  How  shall  I 
live  without  thee  ?  Oh,  what  a  happy  three  months 
have  I  spent  !  and  now,  though  everything  ends  as  it 
should,  I  am  loth,  I  am  loth,  my  dear,  to  let  thee  go." 

I  turned  over  my  drawers  to  see  what  things  Molly 
should  bring  me.  I  had  not  much  to  fit  out  a  bride. 
But  for  Isabel  I  could  not  have  made  a  decent  appear- 
ance. Among  the  things  which  I  turned  out,  one  was 
the  miniature  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere,  first  love 
of  King  Louis  XIV.  of  France.  Her  sweet  sad  face 
looked  upon  me  as  if  with  pity.  Yet  why  should  she 
pity  me,  the  happiest  and  most  fortunate  girl  in  the 
world  ?  I  put  it  down  again,  somewhat  dashed. 
Such  little  things  suffice  to  jar  upon  one.  We  are 
full  of  joy  and  happiness :  then  we  remember  some- 
thing; we  hear  something;  we  see  something;  and 
lo  !  it  is  like  cold  water  poured  upon  the  boiling  pot ; 
the  water  sings  no  more,  the  bubbles  die  :  it  is  like  an 
ice-cold  wind  blowing  over  the  meadows  on  a  warm 
spring  day:  our  joy  is  suddenly  sobered. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
God  Save  the  King! 

By  half-past  seven  I  was  out  of  Molly's  hands, 
dressed  and  ready  for  my  wedding.  I  sat  down  to 
wait.  The  clock  ticked  slowly,  slowly :  the  hands 
seemed  unable  to  move.  My  cousin  sat  down  beside 
me — I  remember  all  she  said — I  remember  all  that  was 
said  and  done  by  everybody  till  the  end.  My  cousin 
talked.  Her  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  a  person  afar 
off :  yet  I  heard  it,  and  I  remember  all  she  said.  It 
was  the  shadow  of  coming  calamity  that  weighed  down 
my  heart.  Molly  brought  some  chocolate.  My  cousin 
took  a  dish,  talking  the  while. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  what  shall  I  do  without  thee  ? 
How  shall  I  live?  What  shall  I  do  in  the  long  winter 
evenings  for  a  companion?  The  house  will  be  empty. 
The  Corporal,  now  that  he  is  a  Lieutenant,  will  go 
abroad.  The  Lieutenant's  lady — poor  Mrs.  Bates! — 
will  give  up  her  garret.  Molly  will  go  to  cook  for 
thee :  the  old  Doctor,  the  long  lean  Don  Quixote,  the 
Knight  of  the  Sorrowful  Countenance — he,  too,  has 
gone  :  to  his  own  place — villain !  Pity  the  wretch 
was  not  pinked,  as  the  men  say,  last  night.  The  only 
person  left  at  night  will  be  the  Captain  with  six  bot- 
tles inside  his  belt.     What  shall  I  do? 


284  A  Fountfin  Sealed. 

"  I  will  go  and  stay  with  you,  my  dear,  whenever 
thy  husband  is  away  at  his  country  seat.  Sometimes 
when  he  is  at  home  he  will  ask  me.  I  think  he  must 
love  me.  I  am  sure  he  does.  But  for  me,  he  would 
never  have  met  his  Nancy.  I  was  the  instrument  of 
Providence :  the  poets  would  call  me  Love's  Messen- 
ger— Venus's  handmaid.  He  has  always  spoken 
kindly  of  what  he  calls  my  kindness  to  thee,  my  dear, 
as  if  any  one  with  a  heart  could  help  being  kind  to 
the  sweetest  and  fondest  of  her  sex. 

"  Some  day,  my  dear,  in  spite  of  what  has  been 
said,  thou  wilt  be  a  great  Lady.  Oh  !  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  him  to  avoid  that  end.  He  will  grow 
only  more  affectionate  as  the  time  goes  on :  such  a 
man  as  this  is  always  constant  :  thine  image  will  be 
carven  so  deeply  on  his  heart  that  he  will  never  be 
able  to  tear  it  out.  I  know  that  look.  I  know  that 
slow,  deliberate  mind,  which  gradually  grasps  a  thing 
and  never  lets  it  go.  Then  nothing  will  do  but  he 
must  publicly  place  thee  beside  him  in  the  full  light 
of  day.  Well,  there  is  no  position  which  thou  wilt 
not  grace.  And  to  think  that  Robert  Storey  dared  to 
aspire  to  thine  hand  !  Well !  Fools  rush  in  where 
angels  fear  to  tread,  as  the  poets  say. 

"  Strange,  that  he  has  never  told  us  his  name  and 
family.  He  reserves  it  to  be  a  surprise  at  the  wedding. 
Captain  Sellinger  knows,  and  he  will  not  believe  that 
we  do  not  know.  Corporal  Bates — now  Lieutenant 
— knows,  and  pretends  that  we  know  as  well.  The 
old  French  spy  and  traitor  knew.  All  the  world 
knows,  it  seems,  except    the  person  most    concerned. 


God  Save  the  King!  285 

Patience,  my  dear.  It  is  now  a  quarter  to  eight.  In 
half  an  hour  thou  shalt  know. 

"  That  was  a  pretty  piece  of  business  downstairs  last 
night.  To  carry  off  two  young  men  of  rank  and 
fortune:  to  design  them  for  a  French  prison  :  I  sup- 
pose to  have  them  held  to  ransom.  It  is  like  an  old 
story  of  Moorish  pirates.  I  am  sorry  they  let  the 
wretch  go  in  peace.  My  dear,  our  friends  might  have 
been  killed.  Now  we  understand  what  was  meant  by 
his  talk  about  loyalty.     Fine  loyalty,  truly  !    Wretch  !  " 

At  eight  o'clock  the  rumbling  of  wheels  told  us  that 
our  bridegroom  had  arrived.  He  jumped  out  and  ran 
up  the  stairs  with  the  eagerness  of  a  bridegroom,  threw 
himself  into  my  arms,  regardless  of  my  head,  which  he 
nearly  ruined,  and  regardless  of  Isabel's  presence. 
"My  dear!"  he  cried.  "My  dear!"  and  kissed  me 
again  and  again.  All  the  weight  and  fear  left  my 
heart  at  sight  and  touch  of  my  bridegroom.  I  was 
perfectly  happy  again. 

Then  he  perceived  Isabel.  "  Madam,"  he  said,  bow- 
ing low.  In  the  presence  of  his  bride  a  man  may 
well  have  eyes  for  none  other — even  for  Mrs.  Reuben 
Storey,     "  Pray  forgive  me." 

"Dear  Sir,  there  ts  nothing  to  forgive,  and  most 
heartily  do  I  wish  you  joy." 

He  kissed  her  hand  and  laughed.  "  Joy  !  "  he  cried, 
"  I  am  the  most  joyful  man  in  the  whole  world.  I 
would  exchange  places  with  no  one." 

"  Not  even  with  the  King  ?  "  said  Isabel. 

He  changed  colour  in  a  moment.  Something 
touched  him.     "  Indeed,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  wish  to 


286  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

take  the  place  of  the  King."  Then  he  recovered. 
"  Where  is  Edward  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  round  him. 

"  He  has  not  yet  come." 

"  Not  come  ?  Edward  is  generally  most  punctual. 
Well,  it  is  but  just  eight.  We  can  afford  to  wait  a 
little.  I  shall  give  him  ten  minutes  more.  If  he  does 
not  arrive  by  that  time,  he  shall  be  punished  by  not 
being  present  at  his  brother's  wedding.  That  would 
indeed  be  a  punishment  for  my  loyal  and  affectionate 
brother." 

"  Where  is  the  church  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Edward  knows.  Oh,  he  will  come  ! 
He  will  come!  " 

But  his  face  showed  a  little  anxiety. 

"  May  we  offer  a  dish  of  chocolate  against  the 
morning  air?"  my  cousin  asked. 

*'  Dear  Madam,  who  can  think  of  food — even  of  your 
chocolate,  which  is  the  best  I  ever  tasted — on  such  a 
day  as  this?     I  wonder  what  makes  Edward  so  late." 

The  chocolate  was  brought  up,  and  he  took  some 
with  a  little  bread-and-butter  cut  thin  and  rolled  as 
Molly  knew  how  to  make  it. 

"  Edward,"  he  went  on,  "  is  the  best  of  brothers. 
Some  men  are  jealous  of  their  elder  brother:  not  so 
Edward.  I  have  heard  cases  where  the  younger 
wished  the  death  of  the  elder.  Not  so  Edward. 
There  is  nothing  he  would  not  do  for  me.  He  has 
arranged  this  business  for  us,  Nancy,  all  by  himself. 
I  believe  he  loves  thee  as  much  as  I  do — yet  without 
envy.  The  other  day  he  began  to  remonstrate,  all  in 
thy  interests,  dear  girl.     There  must  be  some  kind  of 


God  Save  the  King;!  287 

end,  he  said.     Thy  name  would  suffer  if  we  continued 
night  after  night  to  enjoy  the  heaven  of  thy  society. 
He  wanted  me  for  thy  happiness,  dear  Nancy,  to  give 
up  coming  here  :  he  tried  to  persuade  me  that  I  could 
never  hope   to    marry  thee^could    not    hope — -those 
were   his  very  words.     In   remonstrating    Edward    is 
the  very  devil  :    these  sailors  know    not  round-about 
methods :    they  steer   straight    as  a  line.     Could  not 
hope — he  said :  his  very  words.     I   wonder  why  Ed- 
ward is  so  late."     He  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
then  resumed  his  discourse,  talking  rapidly  as  one  who 
is  naturally    agitated  by  the    occasion.     There    were 
other  reasons  for  agitation  of  mind  he  knew  not.     In 
a  word,  he  was  about  to  take  a  step  the  consequences 
of  which   no  one   could    foresee.     He  would   not  sit 
down,  therefore  he  kept  walking  up  and   down    the 
room,  looking  continually  out  of  the  window  for  his 
brother.     He    continued,  therefore,    talking.     "  Well, 
Edward  declared  that  there  were  insuperable   obsta- 
cles.     What  were  they?  I  asked  him.     They  were  this  : 
they  were  that.     I  must  marry  into  my  own  class  and 
rank.     Everybody  would  demand  it.     There  would  be 
jealousies  :  the  English  nobles  love  not  a  nthalliance. 
He    instanced    cases  where   jealousies   amounting  to 
civil  wars  have  followed  such  mesalliances.     I  speak 
freely  and  frankly,  because  we  have  agreed,  dear  girl, 
on  what  we    shall    do.     There  will  be    no   jealousies 
aroused  because  you  will  live  retired  and  unknown. 
The  world  will  not  know  that  I   am   married.     Dear 
Nancy,  think  not   that  I    am  ashamed  of  thee.     Far 
frorn  it.     Thou  art  my  chiefest  pride.     The  world  will 


288  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

presently  discover  that  I  am  not  inclined  to  marry — 
in  my  own  rank.  Then  Edward  will  become  of  greater 
importance.  That  will  not  harm  thee,  my  dear,  nor 
myself.  So  when  he  talked  to  me  of  obstacles,  I 
brushed  them  all  aside.  '  Obstacle  or  no  obstacle,' 
I  said,  '  I  will  marry  my  Nancy  to-morrow  morning.  I 
must  and  I  will.'  'Well,  George,'  he  said,  'if  you 
will  you  must:  if  you  must  you  will.  As  for  what  will 
happen  when  it  is  discovered  I  know  not.  They  can- 
not order  you  off  for  execution  on  Tower  Hill.  Yet 
there  will  be  mighty  indignation  in  certain  quarters.' 
He  said  a  great  deal  more,  but  I  made  an  end.  '  Come 
what  may,'  I  swore,  '  I  will  marry  my  Nancy.'  * 

"  And  now,"  said  my  cousin,  "  we  shall  learn  your 
true  name." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must.  Is  it  true  that  you  do  not 
know  it  ?  Yes — yes — it  is  true.  The  sweet  and  sim- 
ple friendliness  would  have  been  impossible  else.  It 
was  because  you  did  not,  either  of  you,  know  my 
name  that  you  were  able." 

He  laughed  gently.  "  To  me,"  he  said,  "  one  of 
the  chief  charms  of  our  friendship  has  been  the  fact 
that  you  accepted  our  incognito  with  no  apparent  de- 
sire to  penetrate  to  the  truth." 

"  Indeed,  no  !  "  my  cousin  replied.  "  It  was  enough 
for  us  that  we  were  receiving  two  gentlemen  who 
were  perhaps  of  rank,  but  certainly  of  good  breeding 
and  honour.  Our  Quaker  experience  teaches  us  to 
set  no  value  on  rank  alone." 

"At  first  we  doubted  whether  you  really  were 
ignorant  of  our  names.     The  people  who  live  about 


God  Save  the  King!  289 

St.  James's  Street  for  the  most  part  know  us.  You 
were  from  the  country,  it  is  true,  or  from  a  part  of 
London  which  does  not  know  the  faces  which  are  here 
familiar.  The  hveries,  the  arms,  I  thought  would 
proclaim  aloud " 

"  The  Quakers  do  not  know  liveries  and  have  no 
knowledge  of  arms." 

*'  So  I  learned.  Well,  dear  ladies,  what  happened  ? 
I  found  myself,  for  the  first  time,  among  people  who 
were  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  contradicting  me.  If 
you  only  knew  the  happiness  of  being  contradicted. 
You  paid  me  no  respect  on  account  of  rank — 'twas 
like  stepping  out  of  a  prison  into  the  open  air:  you 
sought  no  favour  from  me — neither  place  nor  pension 
nor  ofifice — for  yourselves  or  your  friends — how  charm- 
ing to  meet  such  people  !  " 

'*  Why,  Sir,"  said  Isabel,  ''  what  could  we  ask  ?  " 

"  And  you — you  offered  no  favours,"  he  added, 
with  a  blush.  "  In  a  word,  dear  ladies,  I  learned  to 
love  you  because  you  did  not  know  me.  Oh,  the 
happiness  of  equality !  You  never  flattered  me : 
when  I  spoke  in  ignorance  you  corrected  me:  you 
told  me  things  that  I  had  never  learned  before :  you 
talked  to  me  about  the  people — the  working  people — 
you  told  me  what  the  Quakers  mean,  but  the  Church 
above  all !  Dear  Nancy,  you  have  learned  to  love  me 
wholly  for  myself  as  a  private  gentleman,  happy  in  the 
duties  and  in  the  blessings  of  the  position."  He  had 
been  walking  about  during  this  long  speech — agitated 
in  his  mind,  but  full  of  sweetness  and  full  of  dignity. 
Then  he  took  my  hand  and  kissed  it  again.     "  Well," 


290  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

he  added,  "  if  you  really  wish  to  know — if  you  can- 
not wait  until  we  leave  the  church,  I  will  tell  you  now." 

"  George,"  I  murmured  when  he  took  my  hand. 
"  No — no — no.  Let  me  be  all  yours  before  you  tell 
me.  Then,  if  you  must,  tell  me  when  you  please. 
But  oh !  believe  me.  I  do  not  wish  to  know,  I 
v/ould  that  I  could  never  know  except  that  I  am 
loved  by  a  gallant  and  noble  gentleman,  and  that  his 
love  is  the  greatest  honour  and  the  greatest  happi- 
ness of  my  life." 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,  dear — all  shall  be  your 
own  way.  Ah ! "  he  looked  out  of  window  again. 
"  Here  comes  Edward  running." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  looked  out,  beside  him. 
Why — Edward's  face  was  pale  and  anxious.  He  ran 
across  the  court  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  He  ran  up 
the  stairs — again  I  felt  the  dreadful  presentiment  of 
misfortune.  He  threw  open  the  door.  His  face  was 
white  :  his  eyes  were  wild — 

"  George  !  "  he  cried,  gasping  in  a  harsh  and  broken 
voice. 

"  Well,  brother,  you  are  late.  But  there  is  plenty 
of  time.     Now,  Nancy  dear,  we  will  go  downstairs." 

"Come  with  me,  come,  I  say,"  Edward  cried. 

"  With  you  ?  No — you  are  coming  with  me.  This 
is  my  wedding-day.     Are  you  in  your  senses,  brother?" 

"  Come  with  me,  George.  Oh  !  come  without  ask- 
ing why  !  " 

"  Leave  my  bride  ?     Edward,  are  you  mad  ?" 

*'  I  wish  I  was.  Come,  George — Nancy,  my  poor 
ghild,  send  him  away— Mrs.  Storey,  take  her  away. 


GEORGE    STOOD    SILENT,   HUSHED,    AWED,   HIS    BROTHER    KNEELING 
BEFORE    HIM." Pa([e   2QI. 


God  Save  the  King!  291 

For  God's  sake,  take  her  into  her  own  room — take  off 
that  dress  !  " 

George  stepped  forward.  "  What  is  it  ?  What  has 
happened  ?  " 

"  Everybody  is  looking  for  you.  Come,  you  must 
come.  Oh,  Nancy !  Nancy  !  Poor  girl !  Come, 
George  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  man  ?  " 

Edward  threw  out  his  arms.  "  Then  if  you  must  be 
told  before  her — The  King  is  Dead  !  " 

Then  he  knelt  on  one  knee,  placed  George's  hand 
on  his  left  arm  and  kissed  it,  saying  solemnly  and 
slowly — "  God  Save  the  King  !  " 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment — a  long  moment.  I 
know  not  how  long.  George  stood  silent,  hushed, 
awed,  his  brother  kneeling  before  him. 

Then  the  whole  truth  burst  upon  me.  I  reeled  and 
fell  and  was  caught  by  my  cousin.  But  I  was  not 
fainting.  No — I  was  not  in  a  swoon.  I  saw  and  was 
conscious  of  everything. 

My  lover,  my  bridegroom  who  was  never  to  be  my 
husband,  stood  with  his  face  turned  upwards — alas  ! 
away  from  his  bride.  And  his  face  was  changed. 
There  was  in  it  a  new  authority — a  new  majesty — 
that  of  the  Sovereign  :  a  new  expression,  that  of  king- 
ship. 

Love  had  gone  out  of  that  face.  It  was  filled  with 
a  new  emotion.  The  young  King  saw,  suddenly,  be- 
fore him,  the  vastness  of  his  responsibilities:  the  bur- 
den of  empire  :  the  great  duties.  What  was  the  simple 
girl   beside  him,  in  presence  of   these  things?    War 


292  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

and  peace :  prosperity  and  adversity  :  the  happiness 
of  millions  or  their  misery:  the  sovereignty  of  a  great, 
proud,  and  free  people  :  their  love  and  loyalty  :  or 
their  hate.  How  could  love  survive  that  sudden 
shock?  In  a  moment  the  passion  died  out  in  his 
heart,  though  the  memory  of  it  might  afterwards  re- 
turn. He  was  the  King.  Needs  must  that  he  marry 
in  his  own  class. 

How  could  love  remain  when  the  new  kingship 
filled  the  soul  ?  Love  was  gone.  I  knew — alas  !  I 
knew — alas! — I  saw — Love  had  gone  for  ever:  our 
simple,  artless  Love  could  not  live  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  Crown. 

"  Dei  Gratia,"  he  murmured.  *'  By  the  Grace  of 
God !  " 

Then  he  turned  to  me  and  his  brother  rose. 

''  Nancy,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  Fate  calls  me.  I  am 
now  the  King — unworthy.  Pray  for  me.  My  brother 
will  see  thee.  What  has  passed  I  pray  thee  to  forget. 
Thou  art  all  goodness,  Nancy.  Farewell.  Be  happy." 
He  stooped  and  kissed  my  head — and  I  fell  back. 

When  I  recovered  they  were  gone,  and  my  cousin 
was  weeping  beside  me. 

Sometimes  I  think  it  would  have  been  better  forme 
if  I  had  died  that  day.  But  yet  .  .  .  no — I  have  still 
these  tender  memories  which  I  have  tried  to  set  down. 
I  can  think  of  my  gallant  Prince.  I  can  remember 
how  he  loved  me.  Surely  no  woman  was  ever  loved 
so  well.  This  short  chapter  makes  all  my  life.  And 
I  was  the  first — yes — the  first.  I  was  the  first.  When 
I  meet  him  in  the  world  to  come,  I  shall  go  up  to  him 


God  Save  the  Kfngf!  293 

fearlessly.  I  shall  say:  "  George,  you  loved  me  first. 
I  was  the  first :  you  loved  me  before  the  Other  came 
across  the  sea.  A  man's  first  love  is  his  best.  You 
loved  me  first,  and  since  I  have  never  ceased  to  love 
you,  I  think  that  my  image  must  be  in  your  heart 
still" 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Conclttsion. 

I  SAW  my  death  warrant  in  his  face.  When  the 
sudden  shock  had  passed  away — when  he  understood, 
indeed,  that  he  was  King — then  the  Hght  of  love,  I 
say,  went  out  of  his  eyes.  He  kissed  my  forehead, 
indeed,  but  it  was  no  longer  the  kiss  of  a  bridegroom. 
I  knew  that  it  was  all  over.  I  knew  that  I  had  looked 
upon  his  face  for  the  last  time. 

As  for  the  days  that  followed,  let  me  forget  them  ; 
or  if  that  may  not  be  granted,  let  me  pass  over  them. 

Prince  Edward  came  often  to  sit  with  me  and  com- 
fort me.  Sometimes  he  wept  with  me — it  was  the 
kindest  heart  in  the  world.  "  Consider,"  he  said,  over 
and  over  again,  "  that  a  King  cannot  marry  whom  he 
pleases,  or  where  he  pleases:  he  must  marry  among 
the  sovereign  houses  of  Europe  :  he  must  make  an 
alliance  that  will  advance  the  country  either  for  safety 
or  for  policy,  or  for  the  good  of  trade.  His  sons  who 
will  succeed  him  must  be  of  kingly  rank  on  both  sides: 
his  daughters  must  marry  Princes  for  the  good  of 
their  own  country.  Why,  if  the  King  were  to  marry 
one  of  his  own  nobility,  there  would  be  such  jealousies 
that  his  throne  would  be  in  danger  or  succession  dis- 


Conclusion.  295 

puted.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  the  King 
must  belong  to  a  Royal  House  and  be  married  into  a 
Royal  House." 

I  do  not  know  that  these  words  comforted  me:  but 
they  brought  the  Hand  of  Fate  into  the  business.  It 
grew  to  appear  inevitable. 

"  I  consented,"  he  said,  "  to  a  secret  marriage 
because  George  was  headstrong  and  determined.  But 
it  was  with  a  heavy  heart,  believe  me.  Now,  consider 
what  would  have  been  your  lot.  A  secret  marriage  : 
a  wife  put  away  in  a  cupboard  :  not  allowed  at  Court. 
Then  the  House  of  Parliament  would  petition  the 
King  to  marry — if  they  knew  the  truth  they  would 
urge  him  to  divorce  you.  The  Archbishop  would 
show  that  the  case  was  excusable  and  laudable.  If  he 
resisted  these  importunities,  I  believe  he  would  have 
to  abdicate.  As  for  your  children,  what  w^ould  be 
their  lot  ?  Born  in  wedlock,  yet  not  the  heirs ;  born 
in  the  highest  rank,  yet  possessing  no  rank  at  all." 

Still  I  was  not  consoled. 

"As  for  me,"  he  said,  "  I  declare  that  I  have  had  no 
happy  moment  since  the  time  when  I  perceived  that 
George  was  in  love  with  you,  Nancy — and  you  with 
him.  For  George  is  in  everything  serious  and  sincere. 
It  was  in  no  light  mood  that  he  fell  in  love  with  you, 
but  seriously  and  sincerely.  If  George  loved  you 
yesterday  he  loves  you  to-day.  Yet  I  do  not  think 
that  he  will  speak  much  about  it  to  me,  not  even  to 
me.  His  sorrows  he  will  lock  up  in  his  own  heart. 
His  memory  he  will  keep  under  lock  and  key." 

A  great  deal  more  he  said,  but    to  little  purpose. 


296  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

Time  alone  could  heal  that  gaping  wound,  which  would 
leave  a  horrid  scar  for  the  rest  of  my  days, 

I  heard  nothing  from  the  object,  or  the  Cause,  of 
these  troubles.  At  first  I  thought  he  would  send  me 
a  letter  :  but  the  days  went  on  :  no  letter  came.  Then 
I  thought  he  would  send  me  a  message  or  a  token  : 
but  the  days  went  on  :  there  was  no  token  nor  any 
message.  No  letter,  token,  or  message  has  ever  come 
to  me.  And  now  I  am  glad  to  think  that  he  chose  to 
sever  the  bond  as  he  did,  at  one  stroke. 

Edward  spoke  about  it.  "  At  that  fatal  moment," 
he  told  me,  "  George  said  '  Farewell.'  He  meant  you, 
and  me,  and  your  cousin  to  understand,  then,  that  it 
was  '  Farewell.'  He  has  since  talked  to  me,  but  only 
once,  and  with  few  words.  He  said,  'What  must  be 
done  had  best  be  done  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  have 
said  '  Farewell.'  " 

Wonderful  it  was  how  the  thought  that  one  might 
be  cast  away  but  not  forgotten  comforted  me.  Since 
I  was  led  to  suspect  that  he  was  suffering  on  my  ac- 
count it  seemed  a  duty  plainly  laid  upon  me  to  strive 
after  such  resignation  as  I  might  attain  to. 

I  told  Edward  this,  and  began  to  put  on  some 
measure  of  cheerfulness.  When  one  is  young,  it  is 
not  difficult,  even  in  the  worst  kind  of  bereavement, 
when  the  object  of  one's  affection  is  not  dead,  but 
carried  away  out  of  reach  and  beyond  the  power  of 
speech. 

He  was  patient  with  me :  he  saw  that  I  took  some 
small  pleasure  in  his  coming.  He  came,  therefore, 
every     day.       But    everything,    as    you    know,    was 


Conclusion.  297 

changed.  The  whole  house  was  changed.  To  begin 
with,  Captain  SeUinger's  elder  brother  had  died  un- 
expectedly, the  day  after  King  George  the  Second, 
and  left  him  the  title  of  Viscount  De  Lys  and  an 
estate,  so  that  he  resigned  his  commission  in  the 
Guards  and  went  to  live  upon  his  country  estates. 
Corporal  Bates  had  become  Lieutenant  Bates  of  the 
Royal  Marines,  and  was  off  to  sea.  He  called  to  say 
farewell,  looking  very  gallant  in  his  new  uniform  and 
the  gold  lace  instead  of  the  woollen  epaulettes. 

"  Ladies,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come  to  ask  your  good 
wishes.  I  am  now  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  ladder. 
A  soldier  has  no  chance  until  he  has  the  King's  com- 
mission. I  start  for  Portsmouth  to-night — I  join  my 
corps  on  arrival.  If  I  am  lucky  in  action  I  may  be 
gazetted  to  my  company  in  a  few  weeks.  Then, 
ladies,  to  victory  or  death  !  It  may  be  the  gallant 
death  of  a  simple  Lieutenant :  it  may  be  the  funeral 
of  a  hero  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Fortune  of  war ! 
Fortune  of  war  !  " 

We  asked  him  what  would  become  of  his  wife  and 
children.  They  were  to  stay  on  in  the  house,  but  had 
come  down  from  the  garrets  to  the  second  floor.  So 
he  went  off,  to  meet  his  death,  poor  man.  Yet  one 
would  not  pity  him,  because  I  am  sure  that  his  last 
breath  must  have  been  one  of  satisfaction  that  he  had 
been  permitted  to  fall  on  the  field.  The  Doctor  was 
gone  :  no  one  ever  set  eyes  upon  that  man  again  :  he 
and  his  treacheries  and  villainies  are  now,  I  suppose, 
all  dead  and  forgotten. 

One  day  about  the  end  of  November  Prince  Edward 


298  A  Fountain  Sealed, 

spoke  to  me  seriously  about  my  future.  What  did  I 
wish  to  do  ?  Where  would  I  live  ?  I  had  been  re- 
flecting on  the  subject  for  some  time,  and  my  mind 
was  made  up,  as  you  shall  see, 

I  told  you  that  by  my  father's  death  without  a  will 
I  was  entitled  to  half  the  fortune  which  he  left  behind 
him.  My  brother  had  in  his  keeping  the  whole,  as 
you  have  seen, 

"  I  have  been  wishing,"  I  said,  "  to  converse  with  you 
upon  this  subject.  My  cousin  would  have  me  live  on 
with  her.  But  I  am  a  kind  of  wife — a  woman  that 
was  to  have  been  a  wife — and  I  must  live  as  an  inde- 
pendent woman." 

"  Quite  so." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  live  in  London.  I  desire  to  find 
a  cottage  in  the  country,  where  with  a  garden  and  a 
few  books,  and  Molly  to  wait  upon  me,  I  can  medi- 
tate." 

"  Nancy,  you  are  but  young.  This  is  but  a  passing 
storm." 

"  Nay,  it  is  what  you  sailors  call  a  Juwricano.  My 
ship  is  wrecked  well-nigh  to  sinking." 

"  Say  that  you  find  the  cottage,  how  long  before  you 
will  pine  after  London  again?" 

"  Edward,  do  you  know  me  so  little  ?  " 

"  Well  .  .  .  first,  there  is  this  inheritance  of  yours. 
Let  me  at  least  instruct  some  of  my  people  to  get  that 
out  of  your  brother's  hand." 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  be  so  kind.  At  first  I  was  set 
against  interfering  with  my  brother  at  all.  Let  him. 
keep  everything,  I  thought.     It  is  all  he  cares  about. 


Gjnclusion.  299 

But  afterwards  I  reflected  that  it  would  be  best  to 
have  the  means  of  retrieving  a  Httle  distress  in  the 
world.  There  is  so  much  poverty  and  unhappiness. 
I  also  am  myself  so  unhappy  that  I  can  feel  for  all. 
It  is  the  consolation  which  the  Lord  gives  to  the  un- 
happy." Here  Edward  turned  away  his  head.  "  So, 
if  you  w^ill  be  so  kind,  get  for  me  what  is  mine.  It 
may  be  little,  or  it  may  be  much.  And  now  let  me 
open  all  my  mind." 

He  took  my  hand,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Remember,  Edward,  I  was  promised  to  him — to 
your  brother.  I  am  his,  as  much  as  any  nun  is  vowed 
to  Christ.  But  one  short  half-hour  more,  and  you 
would  have  been  my  brother." 

*'  Nancy,"  he  said,  "  I  am  your  brother.  I  am 
always  your  brother.  Tell  me  all — all — that  weighs 
down  your  poor  soul." 

"  Let  me  feel,  then,  that  I  am  in  reality  your  sister. 
Send  me  not  adrift  in  the  world.  Let  me  feel  that  I 
owe  something  of  my  life  to  you,  besides  the  memories. 
That  cottage  in  the  countiy  of  which  we  spoke— give 
it  to  me,  Edward,  yourself,  for  the  sake  of  your 
brother.  Let  it  be  your  gift — your  wedding  gift — for 
the  wedding  which  w^ill  never  be  celebrated.  Oh  !  my 
brother — let  me  live  in  a  house  that  I  may  call  my 
brother's  gift.  And  come  to  see  me  sometimes.  It 
will  be  a  consolation  to  me  only  to  call  you  brother." 

I  have  done.  The  house  in  which  I  live  was  given 
to  me  by  Prince  Edward,  Duke  of  York.  It  hath  been 
rumoured  abroad,  I  believe,  that  it  was  given  to  me 
by  the  King  himself.     The  house,  with  all  the  furni- 


300  A  Fountain  Sealed. 

ture,  was  bought  for  me,  and  given  to  me,  I  say  by 
Prince  Edward,  in  remembrance  of  that  happy  time 
when  the  royal  brothers  came  night  after  night  to 
talk  with  two  simple  gentlewomen. 

My  story  is  told.  Many  a  Prince  has  loved  a 
maiden  beneath  his  rank.  Love  cares  not  for  rank 
and  station.  Yet  never  before,  I  think,  was  a  poor 
woman  so  suddenly  dashed  to  the  ground  as  I  myself. 
I  hear  people  speaking  of  his  happiness,  his  domestic 
happiness,  with  the  Royal  Lady  his  consort.  Oh ! 
think  not  I  grudge  his  happiness :  he  cannot  be  too 
happy  for  me :  my  prayers  go  up  for  him  both  day 
and  night :  but  still  I  feel — yes — I  cannot  choose  but 
feel — I  was  the  first — I  was  the  first.  Before  the 
Other  came  across  the  sea,  I  was  the  first. 


THE  END. 


The   City   of   Refuge. 

By  SIR  WALTER  BESANT. 

Author  of  "  Beyond  the  Dreams   of  Avarice"  "  Armorel  of 

Lyonessef*   "  Children   of  Gibeon"  etc. 

The  plot  deals  to  some  extent  with  the  supernatural, 
the  greater  part  of  the  incidents  occurring  in  a  com- 
munity in  the  State  of  New  York. 

The  heroine  is  a  young-  girl  of  great  beauty,  who  is  a 
member  of  this  community,  and  who  has  the  power  of 
conversing  with  the  dwellers  in  the  other  world.  An 
Englishman  of  high  social  position  who  becomes  a  ref- 
ugee and  a  young  nobleman  who  acts  the  part  of  an 
avenger  are  prominent  in  the  story. 

The  novel  goes  into  a  new  field  for  this  author,  and 
should  attract  attention  because  of  its  references  to  the 
supernatural  and  the  charming  love  story  involved. 

i2mo,  buckram,  with  twelve  full  page  illustrations, 
$1.50. 

^J**      t^*      *3* 

Another  popular  work  by  the  same  Author  Is 

THE  MASTER  CRAFTSMAN. 

A  graceful  love  story  of  London  and  Wapping. 

'•  Sir  Walter  Besant  has  never  given  us  anything  more 
fascinating  than  this  story." — Coimnercial  Advertiser. 

"  Piquant  and  attractive  throughout." — Detroit  Tri- 
buTie, 

With  the  latest  portrait  of  the  author.  i2mo,  gilt  top, 
$1.50. 

For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers^  or  Sent  Postpaid  by 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

27  and  29,  West  23rd  Street,  New  York, 


The  Mutable  Many 

A  New  Novel  by    ROBERT   BARR. 

i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

The  basis  of  the  novel  is  a  strike  in  an  English  factory,  but 
there  is  a  love-story  running  through  it,  and  it  contains  many  in- 
teresting and  amusing  characters  depicted  in  Mr.  Barr's  well- 
known  vein.  This  book,  which  is  now  appearing  serially,  is 
regarded  by  competent  critics  as  the  best  work  that  Mr.  Barr  has 
ever  done. 

Mr.  Barr^s  other  Recent  Books  Include: 

A  Woman  Intervenes 

l2mo.  Linen,  Beautifully  stamped  with  Colored  Inks 
and  Silver.  With  20  Full-page  Illustrations  by  Hal 
Hurst.    I1.25. 

"A  Woman  Intervenes  "  deals  with  life  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic.  Its  characters  inclu.  e  promoters,  ;tock  speculators, 
mining  engineers,  and  last  but  not  least  the  modern  newspaper 
woman. 

"  So  interesting  that  you  will  be  willing  to  cut  short  your  sleep 
in  order  to  finish  it.'" — The  Goldsmith. 


Revenge 


With    12    Full-page    Illustrations.       i2mo.   Tastefully 
Stamped  with  Silver  and  Colored  Inks.    $1.25. 

A  collection  of  short  stories  for  which  Mr.  Barr  is  so  famous. 
The  motive  0/  each  story  is  revenge,  and  the  different  tales  are 
marked  by  2vonder/ul  fertility  0/  plot  and  are  all  0/  absorbing 
interest. 

"  Mr.  Barr  is  certainly  one  0/  the  best  living  short-story 
writers,  and  his  ability,  humor,  fecundity,  dramatic  insight 
and  knoivledge  of  inen  and  things  seetn  to  be  improving  as  the 
days  go  by.'' ^ — Detroit  Tribune. 

^?*    t^^    e^* 

For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  Sent  Postpaid. 

FREDERICK    A.    STOKES    COMPANY, 

27  and  29,  West  23fd  Street,  New  York. 


Pftast  Mention  THE  POCKET  MAGAZINE, 


irsnilIHIHNKMJilN.M  i  ICHAIiV  I  ACUITY 


AA    000  600  811     4 


/] 


